With an efficiency and smooth training in action that blew her mind, they began to work on Hugh. Backing toward the cargo plane, she kept her eyes glued to Hugh as a half dozen men hefted the lighting gear off him with Herculean grunts. Then Jose went into medic mode, securing his head and transferring him to a stretcher. No wonder Hugh had told her she would be in the way here.
Turning, she raced toward the plane, running up the back ramp and into the crowded cargo hold. The PJ—Jose—barked out a list of medical terms to a man with a stethoscope around his neck, then beat a hasty retreat down the ramp and outside again.
Hands—she didn’t see whose—pushed her into a red webbed seat and buckled her in. Before she could breathe, the plane rumbled forward, faster, nose tipping upward…
And they were airborne.
The passengers cheered, their voices echoing through the cavernous metal tunnel filled with packed rows of webbed seats. Amelia gasped in hitchy breaths of air that smelled of hydraulic fluid and mustiness. She searched the rows of people until her eyes finally found her brother sitting with Lisabeth and Joshua. A moment of guilt pinched her that she hadn’t thought to check on them sooner.
Her brother mouthed the words Are you okay?
She nodded, answering what he wanted to know even though she knew she wouldn’t truly be all right until she knew more about Hugh. His stretcher was only two seats away. So close, but not near enough to touch.
His head was still immobilized, his ankle in a splint. She kept her eyes on him as if she could somehow will him awake. To hell with rules. She slid from her seat and knelt beside him.
A hand fell to rest on her shoulder and she jumped, ready to defend her right to stay by Hugh. Except it wasn’t anyone official. It was her brother.
“Aiden, how did you win over the seat police?”
“I’m a doctor. I’m here to check you over while the military docs take care of your guy there. Trust me.” Aiden worked some kid of magic that maneuvered a quick seat shuffle so she could sit by Hugh’s head. Her brother reached into a first-aid kit and pulled out a stack of antiseptic wipes. He tore one open; the scent of alcohol stung her nose.
“I’m not hysterical.” Anymore. Although she wondered what he intended to do next with those wipes. “I just want to be near Hugh.”
Aiden crouched in front of her, his eyes so serious behind his glasses. “I hear you, but how about we clean you up before you see him.” He swept the medicated cloth over her cheeks. “And I do need to make sure you’re okay.”
She winced at the sting.
“Just a scrape,” he said calmingly. “And some cleanup.”
He tossed aside the wipe—stained red—and ripped open another. Only then did she realize she had blood on her arms. From Jocelyn. Amelia shivered in disgust and residual fear as her brother cleaned her up. The past hour became all too real. She’d been that close to dying. The whole horrific moment replayed in her mind, frame by frame as if in slow motion, until the logical part of her legal mind snagged on a stray detail.
“What about the military nurse? The one that took the baby from Jocelyn?”
“Security detained her back at the airfield, along with the child,” he explained as he tossed away the final wipe. He checked her pupils and took her pulse.
“And Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart, the woman who held me at gunpoint?”
He shook his head. “She’s dead.”
Nausea welled again. “I only wanted to make the woman surrender. It never crossed my mind that she would turn the gun on herself…”
Her big brother took her hands and squeezed.
“Deep breaths, kiddo, deep breaths,” he said, just as he’d done when he taught her to drive and she’d freaked out over stalling at an intersection. “She made the decision to end her life. You did not put the gun in her hand and you were not the one who took someone hostage. Her decisions. Not yours.”
She felt some calm ease through her veins. What had happened today wouldn’t leave her anytime soon, but her brother had given her enough peace to hang on when she desperately needed to stay in control. “When did you get to be so wise?”
He glanced across the plane at Lisabeth and smiled. “I married a woman who brings out the best in me.” He squeezed her hands again. “Thank you for everything you and Hugh did for us. There’s no way we can ever repay you, but know we are here for you and for him. Anything either of you needs. The sacrifices you both made to keep Joshua safe…”
Aiden pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.
And her brother didn’t even know the half of how difficult the journey had been for Hugh. He was a larger-than-life man for more than just his strength and survival skills. The way he’d bolstered her spirits as much as her steps. He had a core-deep strength of character that was rare to find.
And that fast the roots of her hair started tingling. Her eyes slid back to Hugh and she realized… She didn’t just think she loved him. She knew.
She loved him, so much she wondered if there could be such a thing as too much. She’d almost missed out on it back on the island, her feelings all tangled up in the sex and survival and adrenaline and, yes, also in the heartrending stories of a man who adored his family. Hugh was a man who could stroke magic from a guitar as fluidly as he did from her body. A man who tenderly held a child even when doing so exposed old grief.
He was everything a man should be. Everything she’d wanted when she got married before.