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Jared huffed. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. I swear.”
“Mia’s safe?”
“Safe and sound, and a pain in my ass.”
He smiled. Mia’d busted Jared’s balls. He’d pay to see that entertainment.
“Ready to get your pansy ass back to your girl?”
His girl. Not anymore. He couldn’t let this happen again. “I’m ready to bug out of here. That’s for damn sure.”
Boss man eyed his injuries. “Can you move?”
“Enough with the Mother Teresa act. I can move fine.”Maybe.
“Right.” Jared pulled a subcompact weapon from his ankle holster and handed it to him. With a smooth inspection of the magazine clip, Winters reinserted it, then nodded. Jared clasped his bicep, gave him an arm up, then they exited out the door. Each step behind Jared torpedoed pain. Winters’s arm burned, leg throbbed, and everything in between ached. He gritted his teeth and kept pace. They stepped over downed bodies and blew past the front door.
“We’re coming out. Ready for cover,” Jared said into his mic, then turned to him. “We got most of ‘em. New Jefe weaseled out. The money, the guns, all gone. The safe room is empty.”
Jared pressed his earpiece, listened, and nodded for Winters to follow. They made their way into the darkening night. Fresh air and open heavens gave him the push he needed to keep stride with his debilitating limp.
They reached the gate, rounded the corner, and moved fast to an idling Range Rover. Brock popped up behind them, running backwards and firing cover. Ahead, Rocco ascended from a defensive position, weapon pointed forward until he slid over the front hood, then he jumped in the driver’s seat.
With everyone piled in, Rocco sent dirt flying when he slapped the shifter into drive, jumbling hard down a makeshift road.
Winters was breathing way too fast. Pain was a nasty mistress, screwing him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. He tried to compartmentalize it and block it out.
Then his stomach bottomed out. “Where’s Cash?”
If Cash got hurt hauling his ass out, he’d be pissed. Pissed at Cash for doing something stupid. Pissed at himself for a million different reasons he didn’t have time to list. Pissed at everyone.
“Relax, lover boy. Sniper’s out doing his sniper thing. We didn’t have eyes on any cartel leadership, so he’s doing some recon to confirm.”
“Stop it with the lover boy.” Winters cleared his throat. “Got any water in this rig?”
“Touchy. Touchy.” Rocco laughed from the driver’s seat, not necessarily looking out the windshield.
“I was wrong to pull her into this shit. The last thing that lady needs is me in her life.”
Jared turned from the front passenger seat. “That lady? Dude, you realize we just traveled halfway around the globe forthat lady. Your lady.”
Brock reached behind them and grabbed Winters a bottle of water and the first aid kit. He took a big swig of the water. “I need some penicillin. I pulled a damn bullet out with a bed frame.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Cry me a Colombian river.”
“Christ, man.” Brock pulled the vial and a syringe from the kit. “What do you want for pain?”
“I don’t care. Something over-the-counter. Nothing narcotic. I need to be clear-headed.”
“Coming right up. Tylenol for the tough guy. Or is it Motrin for the moron?” Brock dug through the kit, laughing at his joke. “The warrior games are over. Feel free to stone it up.”
“Nah. I need to think,” Winters mumbled to himself but realized everyone heard him. Silence hung thick and heavy as Rocco bounced them through the rainforest. Bushes slapped, underbrush dragged. The Range Rover revved, piercing the white noise.
So this was self-doubt. Or was it self-pity? Either way, perfect timing.
Jared turned again and trained his eyes on Winters.
“I’ll say this once, so it’d be in your best interest to smarten up and listen. That’s your girl. Not some lady. No one you need to be clear-headed around. I don’t particularly like telling pretty girls to shut up and sit down, but I had to ‘cause she wanted in on this little rescue op. I don’t know the first thing about love or any mushy shit like that. But I know Mia’s your girl. So man up, and handle your shit. Handle her.” He glared at Winters. “Christ, I feel like fucking Oprah. And oh yeah, asshole, you’re welcome.”