Serving the Soldier - Part 5 (An Alpha Military Romance) by Grey Helen

Author:Grey, Helen [Grey, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-25T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

The thought of being carried in Jax’s arms as he rescued me like a damsel in distress at any other time would probably have been like a dream come true. Unfortunately, this was reality. He had said something about others following. Was he implying that the four lying dead back there in the clearing were not the only members of the terrorist cell? In fact, were they all dead?

I clung desperately to Jax’s neck as he quickly wound his way through the trees. Michael and Jakob had disappeared in opposite directions. Safe house? What the hell was going on? All I wanted to do at this moment was to disappear. I didn’t want people after me. I didn’t want to have to go through something like that ever again.

Jax held me tightly to his body as he wove his way through the trees as if I weighed nothing at all. I wish I could say I enjoyed the ride, but my heart was still thundering in panic. All the shooting, my ears still buzzing and ringing, my nostrils filled with the scent of gunpowder. The blood!

I was also worried about Jax—he shouldn’t be carrying me, but I knew this was the best option. In my weakened state, I would only slow him down. My arms felt so weak, I was afraid that at any moment I would lose my grip on his neck. He seemed to sense a shift.

“Hang on, Angie,” he urged. “We’ll be to the car in just a few minutes. Hang on!”

I said nothing, my throat dry and scratchy. Just the thought of speaking made me want to gag. As it was, I was fighting the urge to vomit. At this point I wasn’t sure if Jax and the others were trying to evade the police or terrorists, perhaps both. The marsh area was fairly secluded. People didn’t come out here that much anymore because it backed up to the rear of the sanctuary. Other than birdwatchers, the locals avoided the area most of the time due to the mosquitoes and bugs.

I heard Jax panting for breath and I, once again, remembered his back injury. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. “Put me down!” I croaked.

He said nothing, but kept on going. “Jax! Put me down,” I repeated. “Your back!”

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

I glanced at his face and saw the tension, the fury, and perhaps even pain, but he refused to relinquish his grip on me. Tears warmed my eyes and I began to shake my head, muttering against his shoulder. I don’t even recall what it was I said, but I think I was praying again. Praying for both of us. Praying that he didn’t re-injure his back carrying me like this. Praying that he would get us to safety. Praying that we wouldn’t die today.

“Almost there,” he said moments later.

I turned to look in front of us, and there, nestled between a stand of trees was a dark Jeep Cherokee, or some similar model.

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