“For what?” Voodoo asked as he helped maneuver their patient into Thunder’s hold.
“Saving her,” he said simply. By the time he was in the water and found the woman floating lifelessly beneath the waves, she’d already inhaled enough water that she wasn't breathing when he managed to get them around the rocks and to the shore.
CPR had worked, but would it have without Voodoo?
Honestly, Thunder wasn't sure, but there was every chance that if Voodoo hadn't been there, hadn't helped him administer CPR, they wouldn't have brought the woman back.
“Pretty sure it was you jumping off the cliff and getting to her so quickly that saved her,” Voodoo replied.
With the woman tucked against his chest, Thunder shoved to his feet. She looked small and fragile in his arms. Her skin had that pallor that told him she hadn't seen the outdoors in a longtime, and he hated seeing the mottled bruises covering every inch of her exposed skin.
No matter how long he lived, he was sure he would never get out of his mind the way he’d found her, lying flat on her back, her legs parted, her private parts out on display for the use of the man who owned her. Worse than that was the empty look in her eyes, and the vacant way she stared at nothing, not registering anything happening around her. That would haunt him for the rest of his days.
But she wasn't completely lost. Not yet.
She’d fought for her freedom, made her own choices about what she wanted her life to look like, or what she wanted her death to look like. Hidden inside her was the heart of a survivor, someone who had persisted through the unthinkable and was still standing.
“Here.” Voodoo held out a blanket and very carefully tucked it around the precious bundle in his arms.
It took Thunder more restraint than it should have not to growl at Voodoo when the man’s hands brushed against the woman’s body. This possessiveness wasn't him, and it was freaking him out.
The last thing he wanted was to be the next Delta Team member to fall. He had no intention of falling for this woman. She hated him, she might eventually realize he was no threat, but she wasn't going to throw herself at him. All he had to do was provide her with a space where she could feel safe enough to start trusting that her world had changed.
That was all.
So why did that suddenly feel like an impossible task?
This woman was nothing to him other than someone to be rescued and protected. He could offer her a hand to help her steady herself, but once she found her balance again, she was going home to her family. She wasn't a stray dog to be adopted.
Yet his instincts continued to scream at him, push him, urge him to slaughter anything that even looked at her wrong.
“What are you doing to me, babydoll?” he whispered as he and his team headed back to the road and the car that would take them to the small airstrip.
February 22nd
10:39 A.M.
Loud.
Everything was too loud.
It hurt her ears.
Bright.
Everything was too bright.
It hurt her eyes.
Confusion swirled inside her. Her body felt heavy and was uncooperative, but it didn't feel like she was restrained.
Her mind … it spun in a million different directions. Thoughts fluttered through her head too quickly for her to grab hold of.
Maya didn't like this out-of-control feeling. The only way she survived the hell she lived in was by controlling the only thing she could. And the only thing she could control was her own mind. So she did.
But now …
Now it had betrayed her as well.