“He’ll appreciate that. Please take good care of her. We’ll be in touch,” Dmitri said and then gently ran his finger along India’s cheek away from the bruises. Ford felt a mix of emotions. Something stirred inside of him. Something he couldn’t identify and wouldn’t take the time to. They needed to move. He never entertained emotions. Emotions made men do stupid shit. Emotions got men killed.
“You stay in back with her and I’ll drive us to the estate. I’ll radio Fenton that we’re on our way.”
Grey nodded his head as he stared at the woman. He felt so disgusted and pissed off.
* * * *
Ford was shocked when Grey reached over and caressed the stray hair from India’s cheek.
Grey was a hard man just like the rest of them. But seeing him being so immediately concerned over the stranger annoyed him.
“Hey, we’ve got a job to do.”
Grey shot him a look and appeared taken aback by Ford’s snappy attitude as well as at being caught actually caring.
Ford closed the doors and headed to the front of the van. He followed his gut and trusted it immensely. Something suddenly felt different. The atmosphere had changed. His mind wondered on different things as he pondered more about India and who she was. He couldn’t help but feel that this mission, this personal favor they were doing for a friend would change their lives. He just hoped that it didn’t get them all killed.
* * * *
Fenton and Flynn stood by the doorway staring at the sleeping beauty in the guest bedroom. Fenton had already done an entire sweep of the perimeter of their property and now joined Flynn.
“I’d like to come face to face with the pussy bastard that did this to the poor thing.”
“You read her file from Dmitri, Flynn. She was caught in the middle of some Russian mob shit. We know how that goes. She’s lucky to be alive,” Fenton replied and didn’t walk any deeper into the room. As far as he was concerned, despite India being Silas’s sister, she was just another job, a person they needed to keep safe. They knew men who were involved with organizations like the Russians. They had a few friends in the Italian mafia, Puerto Rican gangs, Dominicans, and Asians. Shit, to think about it, they knew a lot of men doing heavy illegal shit. It was a career path and a way of life for many of them. Some were even involved before the war and others after.
But Ford, Fisher, Grey, and Flynn, along with him, rarely got involved with illegal jobs. They weren’t saints, but he didn’t give a shit. Only the good die young.
With that thought, Fenton remembered men, fellow team members who gave the ultimate sacrifice in protecting this country as well as those who lost their minds because of it. They were all good men.
Fenton walked into the kitchen to find Fisher back home from work. He placed his Stetson down on the counter and washed his hands by the sink.
“How is she today?” he asked. Fenton gave a small shake of his head, indicating no change.
“Damn, I was hoping that she would be able to shower today and change. She was complaining about that yesterday.” He shook his head.
Her condition was another thing. The broken ribs, sprained wrist, and bruising and swelling made her unable to walk and move on her own. Fisher and Ford were going to help her get into the bath but then she was moaning and in pain. They gave her half a pill despite her demand of not wanting a whole one, and then she passed out.
“Maybe she’ll wake up soon? She did yesterday around dinner time,” Fenton told Fisher as Fisher walked from the kitchen and down the hallway, gun, badge, and all. Fenton watched him go as Grey arrived in his deputy uniform.
“How is she?” he asked.
Fenton released an annoyed sigh. They’d watched over numerous people before, including a few women, but he never saw this type of reaction from his buddies.
“Sleeping. What else would she be doing?” he snapped and stood up, prepared to head outside to the barn.
“What’s with you?” Grey asked and leaned against the island in the kitchen with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Nothing. I’ll be out in the barn getting shit done and walking the perimeter. Save my supper on the stove if you’re all done eating already before I’m back. I’ll bring Magnum, Charles, and Clint, with me.”
He let the three dogs out before he walked out, huffing and puffing and then really pissed off for suddenly feeling bad about it.
Fenton was a survivalist, a hunter, a tracker, and a real hard ass. This sitting around babysitting a sleeping woman was horse shit.
So why was he feeling disappointed that he might miss seeing sleeping beauty awake?
The three German Shepherds followed on his heels.
He mumbled as he ki