Tempted Hero by Ella Miles

Ri

The world spinsand spins and spins until I can’t make sense of what’s up and what’s down. I can’t differentiate between the stars above and the ground below. I think I’m in a forest of trees, but they spin so quickly I can’t figure out where to walk.

There’s danger all around. I can sense it, but I can’t see it. I don’t know where the other men are, but they’re here in the forest. I can hear their shouts, their cries of pain, their gunshots. I can hear it all.

The hairs on my arms are standing up, my heart is beating fast with adrenaline, and my body shakes slightly from fear.

I lost Jace and Calvin the second the chaos started. I don’t know who shot first, but one second we were trudging through the woods, with Calvin asking me every few minutes if the drugs had kicked in, and the next, there were men everywhere shouting and shooting at us.

It was at that moment I succumbed to the drugs, and everything became foggy. I tried running but couldn’t see where I was going; I still can’t. I have no hope of surviving if I don’t find Jace or Calvin.

I grip my gun tightly, although if a man stood a foot in front of me, I’m not sure if I could tell if they were friend or foe. I rub my hand against my forehead, trying to stop my pounding headache, but it continues to pound.

The spinning doesn’t stop either. I don’t know what drug I was injected with, but it’s a strong one. Thankfully it seems to have mainly just affected my head and not anything else. Everyone else must be in a similar situation.

I take a step forward. Physically I can move just fine. I just need to find Jace or Calvin or at least find a place to hide until the drugs wear off.

I decide my best bet is to crawl low to the ground. I can’t tell exactly where bushes or trees are, but I can see blobs of shapes in front of me, so I try to crawl toward those.

Thorns cut into my hand as I crawl on my hands and knees from one of the bushes. I swear under my breath as I fumble to pull a large thorn from the center of my palm.

A nearby gunshot makes my heart jump, and I dive into a thorny bush head first, hoping to be well hidden in the cover of darkness.

The bush’s barbs dig in everywhere—my face, hands, knees, hips, fucking everywhere. I bite down on my lip to keep from cursing out in pain as I hear a man walk by, speaking to someone.

I don’t recognize either of the voices, so I assume they are my enemies. I hold my breath, trying everything in my power not to move or make a sound until their voices disappear. Only then do I let out a long breath.

Carefully, I roll over onto my back, trying not to inject more spiky thorns into my body, but they are everywhere. It’s going to take me hours to pull all the tiny bristles out. I first focus on the larger thorns to relieve some of my pain.

More men pass, and I freeze once again, holding my breath, but they too move along quickly. My hiding place seems like a good one if four men have now passed me and not spotted me.

My plan was to keep moving, hoping to find Jace and Calvin, but I’m reconsidering my options. It might be better just to stay hidden here, at least until I hear a voice I recognize, or the drugs wear off.

I shiver a little as a cool chill rustles through me, and a drop of rain falls onto my forehead.

I brush it off just as clouds overhead open up and a full-blown rain showers down on top of me.

Fuck.

I won’t survive out here all night in the cold rain with no shelter. The ground is already muddy, and the rain just adds to it. Vincent couldn’t have planned a better challenge, even if he could control the weather.

If I survive this, if I ever get any real power, I’m going to make Vincent pay for all the suffering he’s caused me.

Right now, I have to make a hard decision. Stay in my hiding spot and freeze to death or crawl out and hope to find Jace, Calvin, or shelter.

Neither option is great, but as the rain picks up and my shivering worsens, I decide the better option is to keep moving. I’d rather die from a quick bullet than the slow spiral of hypothermia. And at least if I’m moving, I can pretend I’m doing something to save myself.

Crawling through the thick mud, I have no idea which direction I should be going. Between the drugs and the rain, I can’t see anything as mud splashes on my face with each movement.

I move slowly, changing directions when I hear close gunfire. Every time I move away from the sound of people, I’m probably also moving away from finding Jace and Calvin, but it’s not safe to move toward the sounds.

The crawling is horrendous. Each movement digs a thorn or branch into some part of my body. I’m sure I’m covered in cuts all over, and I’ll be shocked if I don’t get an infection from all the mud and dirt trapped in my wounds.

I keep crawling and crawling, knowing if I stand up, I could easily be shot.

Instead of the mud, branches, leaves, bushes, or trees, I expect when I reach my hand forward, this time I feel the unmistakable roughness of a leather boot.

I pull my hand back, terrified to look up at the man I’ve encountered. I don’t know if he’s a foe or friend, but the odds aren’t in my favor. I’m not even sure if I truly trust Jace or Calvin anyway.

I look up, knowing it’s going to be hard for me to make out who it is anyway, expecting to see the end of a gun pointed down at me. The shadow of a man above me is just that—shadows. He seems to sway back and forth, and I can’t tell if he’s doing that or if my brain is still spinning the world around me.

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out whom I’ve stumbled upon. I’m not sure if he’s spotted me yet, but the second he takes a step forward and feels my body under his foot, he’ll realize it if he hasn’t already.

“Snake!” the man yells down at me as he jumps back. “Get away from me, snake!”

I recognize that voice—it’s Ryker.

“Ryker, it’s me, Ri,” I say, slowly standing up with my hands in front of me cautiously.

“You bit me! Get away.” He shoots his gun at the ground where I way just lying.

Jesus.

I bite my lip and move behind a tree trunk. Ryker was either injected with a different drug than me, or it affected him differently. He’s hallucinating and is no help to me in his current state.

He yells some more—gibberish I can’t understand—while I lean against the tree, remaining as still as possible, so he doesn’t fire his gun in my direction and hit me on accident.

After a few moments, Ryker moves on. I can still hear him yelling, drawing attention to himself, but he’s far enough away that I decide to make a run for it.

This time, I run instead of crawl.

It’s hard to dodge the trees, though. I run with my arms outstretched to try and avoid them, but I still hit my hip against the side of a trunk, bruising it badly. I trip on a rock and hit the ground hard a few minutes later, scrambling back to my feet.

After running for five minutes, I feel like I’ve run far enough to distance myself from Ryker’s shrieking. I’m just about to stop when I run into a hard chest.

“Fuck,” I let out, knowing there is nowhere to hide this time.

“Thank god,” Calvin says.

I exhale a breath of relief.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe we lost you. There was just gunfire everywhere, and then you were gone,” he says.

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad I found you.”

Calvin whistles, and Jace appears a few seconds later next to him.

“I don’t think we are far from the house. Can you walk? How do you feel?”

I’m about to answer when something catches my eye—more like someone.

“I can carry you while Calvin carries the case,” Jace says.

“No.”

“No? Ri, we need to get to the house, then we can get you medical attention. I don’t know what the drugs are doing to you, but we ran into Ryker earlier, and he was going ballistic. You aren’t right in the head at the moment. You can’t make a decision.”

“I’m fine.”

“But—”

“I ran into Ryker. He’s lost it, and he needs your help.”

“What? Wasn’t James with him? He was following close behind when we ran into him.”

I shake my head. “Ryker was on his own, shouting and drawing a lot of attention. You need to find him, or he’s dead.”

They are both silent for a minute. I’m sure they’re considering if they should go save their actual boss or me—a woman they’ve barely met.

“Jace, go find Ryker. Calvin, take the briefcase to the house and finish the game.”

“What about you?” Calvin asks.

“I can hold my own. I injured my leg, so I don’t want to slow either of you down. I’ll head toward the house on my own.”

“But the drugs—”

“Didn’t affect me. You were right; mine must have been fake. I’m fine. Go!”

I practically shove them, careful not to show how much the drugs have, in fact, altered my mental state.

Bullets whizz past us, and neither of them has time to disobey my orders. We all run in different directions. Jace toward Ryker, Calvin toward the house, and me—I dive down on top of Beckett, who is lying far too exposed next to a tree.

I cover him with my body as even more bullets flying overhead. I know I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t show him that I still have feelings for him. This is the opposite of my plan. My plan was to drive him away and make him hate me. I needed to force him to give up the game—save himself and his men. I wasn’t supposed to show I cared, but I can’t let him die.

I’d rather die myself than live in a world without him.

A bullet hits the curve of my ear, and I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. I’m pretty sure I accidentally knee Beckett in the groin when I flail in pain.

“Sorry,” I whisper into his ear after I’ve regained control of myself.

He doesn’t say anything in response. At first, I think it’s because he’s trying to be quiet as not to draw attention to ourselves. But it’s strange he hasn’t tried to roll me underneath him. He hasn’t moved or spoken at all either.

“Try to crawl under that log,” I say, lifting myself off of him so he can move without my weight on him.

He doesn’t move.

I take slow, deep breaths. I don’t know what the drugs have done to him, obviously not the same as to me.

The gunfire stops, and I examine Beckett more carefully. My vision is still shaky, my head still throbs, and the rain still pours, but I can make out Beckett’s features. I look over his body, but I don’t see any major physical injury.

“Are you hurt?” I plead.

His only answer is a blink of his eyes.

“Move your hand,” I say.

I watch his hand, but his fingers barely twitch.

I frown.

He’s paralyzed. Is it the drugs? Is it an injury? Is it permanent?

I can’t think about that now, but I do need some answers.

“Blink once for yes and twice for no. Are you physically injured?”

I wait.

He blinks once, then twice.

I sigh.

“Can you move at all?”

Two blinks—no.

“The drugs did this?”

One blink—yes.

“But mentally, you’re still there?”

One blink—yes.

“We can’t stay here. We need to find a place to hide until this game is over. Have you seen any of the guys?”

Two blinks—no.

“I’m going to get us to someplace safe. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

Two blinks—no.

I know why he doesn’t want me to help him. I can see it in his eyes. He wants me to save myself, but he’ll die if I do. The cold rain, the drugs, or a bullet—any of those could kill him quickly, and I won’t allow that to happen.

I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to save us; I just know that I am.

I’m tired of him always doing the saving.

I consider my options for a moment. Dragging him would be slow, and he’d get more injuries from being raked through the mud and brush. He can’t hold on at all, so a piggyback ride is out of the question. I can’t carry him with just my arms either.

The best way to move him is with a fireman’s carry—over my shoulders where his weight is more distributed. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to lift him into that position.

A loud explosion rattles through us from a distance. The fighting has gotten worse, progressing from just gunfire to full-on bombs being thrown. We have to get out of here. I have to be strong enough.

I bend down into a squatting position and hook my arms under his armpits.

“Push up with your feet if you can.”

He moans, and I know he’s trying to help. My back strains as I lift with all my might, slowly yanking him up to his feet until he’s leaning against my chest.

I hold him there a second, trying to catch my breath before I dip my shoulder underneath him and roll him up across my shoulders. I start moving, fully expecting to collapse from the weight of him soon.

I still can’t see worth a damn, but I run anyway, hoping like hell I don’t trip and fall.

We bump into a couple of trees along the way, and Beckett gets the worst of the impacts, but somehow he stays on my shoulders as I run. That is until I run almost straight on into a tree. I stumble backward, barely keeping us upright.

“Jesus, Fighter, what’s wrong with your sight?” Beckett says.

I gasp with a grin.