22
Drowsy from pain pills and exhausted, Shanti slept much of the way to The Hague, lying back in one of the reclining chairs on Cobra’s fancy jet, Doc Sullivan checking on her from time to time. The navy surgeon had set her leg, put it in a boot, and had given her crutches, the anesthetic he’d injected into the break long since worn off.
Connor sat beside her, brought her water and fresh ice packs for her cheek, and helped her get to the restroom on her crutches, keeping a professional distance, treating her like a client once again.
God, it hurt.
She didn’t want to get him fired, so she played along, doing her best to hide her feelings for him—and her heartache at having to say goodbye.
When you get home and life gets back to normal, you might not feel the way you feel today.
His words had stung, and yet she could see in his eyes that he cared about her, that this hurt him, too. No, he hadn’t told her that he loved her, but she couldn’t believe a man could be so caring and so damned good in bed if he didn’t feel something for her.
You’re being ridiculous.
He’d told her he didn’t do relationships. What had she expected?
When he left to use the restroom, Elizabeth sat in his seat. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Shanti. We all are.”
“I’m sorry you lost two men.” Remembering, she reached for the plastic bag a corpsman had given her to hold what remained of her belongings and drew out the family photo she’d taken from John Hatch’s luggage. “This got wet in the river. Sorry. I thought his family might want it.”
Elizabeth took the picture. “You carried this all the way back from the crash site? Thanks. I’m sure they’ll be grateful.”
“What went wrong?”
Elizabeth told her how the Indian pilot, who’d sold himself out to Naing, had been dating one of Pauline’s support staff, the woman who kept her calendar. “When he learned from her that you weren’t coming to camp that day, he knew to watch for Cobra transports at the Cox’s Bazar airport. He was a pilot, and people were used to seeing him there. He had access to the terminal and tarmac. He and his buddy shot John Hatch and Robert Davis in the hangar—and you know the rest. I ruled the Indian pilot out in my assessment because he’d piloted the helicopter the day those guys fired the grenade at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“Pauline wasn’t the leak.” That was a relief.
“No, she wasn’t, but she is horrified. She fired her clerk.”
“Do the men’s families know?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Notifying them was Corbray’s job, not mine—thank God.”
Then it was all too much for Shanti—the abduction, the pilots’ murders, saying goodbye to Connor. Her eyes filled with tears that she couldn’t hold back. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Elizabeth reached for a tissue. “Damn, girl, you were unstoppable until you broke your tibia. You’ve earned our respect. Am I right, guys?”
“Hell, yeah,” Malik said.
“You’re one tough chick,” Cruz said.
“There are blokes a-plenty who wouldna be able to do what you did, lass.”
“You’re a badass, Ms. Lahiri,” Mr. Tower said from behind a newspaper.
Shanti hadn’t realized the others had been listening.
Elizabeth leaned in and hugged her, whispering in her ear. “Don’t worry. Connor is crazy about you. Give him time.”
Shanti’s pulse skipped. Had she said something to give them away?
Elizabeth seemed to read her mind. “I’ve never seen him act like this about any woman—ever.”
Then Connor was there, glaring at Elizabeth. “Fishing?”
Elizabeth released Shanti, got to her feet. “She was upset.”