Brock stumbled as the power of the hit threw the dead man against him. Momentarily distracted, he was stunned with a sucker punch by his opponent. The second round-house punch telegraphed itself which he blocked effortlessly as he flung the dead body overboard. He stepped in and with a direct hit snapped the man’s ulna and radius bones clean at the elbow. The useless arm dangled grotesquely.
“You teamed up with the wrong crowd, motherfucker,” Brock sneered as another attacker closed. Looking to connect with a wild left hook, he came up empty as Brock stepped around to thrust his K-bar deep into the man’s neck severing the carotid artery. “Time to feed the fishes, asshole.”
“Why did we stop? Get this goddamn boat going. We’ve got a tight schedule to— who the fuck are you?” Fadhil stopped at the top of the entrance into the cabin as he encountered the furious man. His eyes flickered as he noticed the dead man slumped over the seats and the two prone bodies of his cohorts drifting in the ocean.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” Brock sneered through a clenched jaw.
“I have to give it to you Americans. You are exceedingly cocky. You might have overpowered them but let’s see how well you do against a bullet,” he cackled as he aimed a pistol at Brock’s head.
“Not on my watch, you piece of shit!” The heel of Jordan’s roundhouse kick hammered into the side of Fadhil’s head, stunning him as his shot skimmed Brock’s cheek. “You fucking whore! You’re dead!”
“No she isn’t. You are.”
Powered by his tightly coiled torso, he whipped a steel-tipped boot across the front of the man’s face, ripping away his upper lip and splintering teeth and cartilage through soft nasal tissue. Brock watched dispassionately as Fadhil’s eyes rolled up into their sockets as he was flung overboard, dead before he hit the water.
“Good fucking riddance,” Jordan’s voice sounded husky and weak.
“Jordan!” Brock lurched forward and caught her just before her head hit the side of the doorway. Her eyes flickered.
“Hey, honeyb-uns, what took you so long?” she stammered. His eyes scanned her face and body for wounds. Apart from a cut on her lip and a bruised cheek, he couldn’t detect anything wrong. He frowned as he brushed his fingers over her chin.
“Baby, where are you hurt?”
“I think I might have some internal injuries. He… the b-astard kicked me a c-ouple of times.”
“Fuck!” Brock tapped his ear. “Jared, lower a harness. We have to get Jordan to a hospital. She’s hurt.”
Her hand curled into a fist around his shirt as she dragged him closer. “P-romise me one thing, Commander Carter,” the whisper was so soft he had difficulty hearing.
“Anything, my love.”
“You need to teach me to k-ick ass like that,” she said with a tremulous smile “V-ery impressive, b-abe.”
“Enough talking. Jared is going to pull us up. Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got you.” He secured the harness around his body and used the attachment to tie her to him before he hooked it to the rope. “Here we go.” He yanked on the rope, holding onto her as the most precious belonging of his lifetime.
“You better crank up the speed, Jared. She’s passed out. Goddamn!” His raw voice echoed through the chopper as he opened Jordan’s shirt after sitting down. Her side was severely bruised, slightly distended, and rigid to the touch, which indicated internal bleeding. From experience, he knew it could be life threatening since the signs pointed to brutal and vicious kicks to her stomach. The bruise on her forehead indicated that Fadhil must have hit her with the butt of a gun, which was the only reason he would’ve managed to overpower her.
“If that bastard wasn’t already dead, I’d go back and kill him again— slowly.”
The Raider sped off in the direction of the West Coast.
“Cruz, send me the coordinates of the closest top hospital and then warn them we’re coming in hot with a severely injured patient.” Jared’s jaw locked with concern. He knew how close Paxton and Jordan were, how much the four women loved each other— not to mention that his best friend had completely lost his heart to her. She was not going to die… she couldn’t. He was desperate to save her life.
“Oh God,” Knox squeezed Jordan’s hands where she kneeled in front of the seat. “She can’t die. Tell me she won’t die, Brock!” She lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “Please, I can’t… she just can’t… I have to…”
Brock took her hand. “Breathe, Knox, yes, that’s good, little one.” He looked at Jordan. She was ghostly pale. “She’s a strong woman and you know better than me that she's a fighter. Someone like Fadhil isn’t going to get her down. I won’t let her.” He leaned in and kissed her cold lips. “Do you hear me, Jordan? Hang on, baby. I love you; do you hear me? I love you, woman!”
“I kn-ew it. N-ot a romantic bone in y-our body,” Jordan’s breath was warm against his lips. “I love you too, Brock Carter… but—”
“Shh, no more talking. Save your strength.”
“When I’m rec-overed, you better do it prop-erly.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, my love. I intend to.”
“Good. G-onna take a nap now, ‘kay?”
Brock’s arms tightened around her as she slumped. He frantically checked her pulse and then smiled comfortingly at Knox. “She just passed out again. She’s gone into shock and I’m worried that she’s bleeding internally.” He looked at Jared. “How much longer?” He immediately started the process of first aid to ensure her airway was clear as he continually checked her breathing and pulse. “Hurry the hell up, Jared!”