Shaker was panting so hard it was nearly impossible for Jonas to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. Camellia?
I think he is. Red says yes.
Jonas took a chance. What else was there to do? He reached carefully. Even in his present state, Shaker could be very dangerous. Jeff had come up on the other side of Shaker, staying at a respectful distance but ready to back Jonas up. Shockingly, Kyle was on the move as well. Jonas knew through his connection with the underground.
Sit your ass down, Kyle. You want to ruin whatever the hell Camellia did to patch you up? I’m a little too busy to perform some sort of mouth-to-mouth crap on you, he ordered as he removed the watch from Shaker’s wrist and popped up the fail-safe button.
When your woman decides to heal someone, Jonas, she does a thorough job.
For one moment, he thought about asking her to try to heal Shaker so he wouldn’t have to bear the responsibility of having murdered all three of the Borders brothers. He felt Camellia grow very still in his mind. Holding her breath. He wondered what she would do if he asked her. He knew it wouldn’t be fair to her or Shaker.
“How did you get your voice into the compound, Shaker?”
The man coughed again. “Lydia is our cousin. I was going to let Oliver’s death go, but then she found out how you murdered him. Told us Miller did nothing. That the entire team did nothing to save him. Knew then all of you were as fucked up as Tusker and me. Had to destroy everyone.”
“Team Two?”
“Couldn’t get her in no matter how hard she tried, even as a registered therapist.” Shaker opened his eyes and stared straight into Jonas’s. “You have to get rid of them, Jonas. I know it will be hard, but Whitney turned everyone in that first experiment into killers. You know he did. I couldn’t get it done, but you can. You’re strong enough. They trust you. Go back to your team and kill them all. Wipe them out. If you get the chance, do the same with Team Two.”
Jonas stared down into Shaker’s eyes. Already they seemed to be clouding over. This man had led his entire team of eighteen men to die all because a cousin had reported a dream, not realizing it was a dream. No one had checked it out. Not Lydia, who was supposed to be a professional but was taking money from Abrams to sell information to him. And not Shaker, who should have at least investigated before he decided to murder men, women and children.
Jonas sighed and nodded. “I’ll do my best to make things right.” That said nothing and everything. He hoped it would give Shaker peace as he slipped away.
* * *
Jonas held out his hand to Camellia on the path to the garden. Jeff and Kyle continued to take the trail leading down to the compound below them.
“You haven’t said one word to me in all the time we’ve been hiking back, honey,” he pointed out. “I asked Jeff and Kyle to go on without us so we can have a day or so alone before I have to report to Ryland. Pretending you aren’t hurt or that you’re not thinking of retreating and running the first opportunity you get isn’t going to solve anything.”
Camellia stared at his hand for a long time. He didn’t move. He just stood there, holding it out to her, waiting. She raised her lashes, those long feathery lashes that helped conceal what she was thinking and feeling from him. But not so much anymore. He was becoming adept at reading her through their connection.
Jonas knew he would always need that extra help. Camellia had learned to internalize so much. She’d lived on her own a long time, learning to rely on herself. As a young child, a teen and a young woman, she’d learned not to trust easily. Already their relationship, as brief as time had given them, had been put to the test. He kept his gaze fixed on hers. His hand out to her, willing her to take it.
Camellia pressed her lips together and then bit down on the side of her lower lip. Very slowly, with great reluctance, she put her hand in his. The instant she did, he closed his fingers around hers, locking her smaller hand inside his. He wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t taking chances with the one woman who meant the world to him.
“Thank you, baby,” Jonas said softly.
He continued walking along the winding path until they were in the thicker trees of the rain forest before he spoke again. He enjoyed just walking with her. Having it just be the two of them again. Birds were in constant motion. Lizards skittered under the vegetation on the forest floor, announcing their presence with rustling noises. Exotic flowers wound their way up tree trunks, giving off fragrant scents. Tree frogs in various shades of green, blue and red stared at them with large, curious eyes as they made their way to Camellia’s house.
Tucked back into the grove of tall Middlemist Red Camellias, even the porch of Camellia’s little house was difficult to see, but Jonas knew exactly where it was located, and he went that way. He walked them slowly through the trees and shrubbery, letting the beauty and peace of the garden sink into his system. This was Camellia’s home. This was who she essentially was at her core. Beautiful. In complete harmony with nature. She didn’t rage against fate. She just went with whatever fate threw at her.
“I should have told you about Oliver, Camellia,” he said. “Right away. I just should have done it instead of putting it off. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you’d understand. It wasn’t fair that you were thrown a curve ball the way you were, and I couldn’t explain anything to you. I wanted to look at you face-to-face when I explained it, or at least be alone with you, not try to defend myself in the middle of Angel telling you about Jeff’s nightmare.”
He led her unerringly through the rain forest of plants. As he did, the blossoms all around them dipped and stretched to reach her. Some touched her face or her wrists or forearms as they passed. He realized they were trying to tend the splinters of rock embedded in her scalp and arms. The underground network had sent word ahead that Camellia had been injured, and already the community was reaching out to give her whatever she needed to heal.
He tried to think back to all the times he’d been wounded on the various missions he’d been on. So many countries, so many environments. He hadn’t thought about the plants touching him.
He remembered one time when he’d been lying on his belly in a sea of pain, shot to hell, thinking he wasn’t going to make it, blacking out twice. The first time he woke, there were vines wrapped around him. He’d been semiconscious and thought one of the GhostWalkers had found him and covered him. He was in enemy territory and training had taken over. He hadn’t made a sound, even when he slipped back under.
He woke a second time, far more aware. He knew where he was and that he was alone. He thought he had been the one to wrap the vines around him and build a blind. There wasn’t so much as a single drop of blood on the leaves or ground to give him away. When the enemy got close to his blind, there were no tracks leading them to where he lay on the ground, covered by the vines. Looking back, he realized there had been a few flowers positioned exactly over the worst of his wounds.