Page 36 of Keeping a Warrior

With a wrench it tore free and was whipped away. Immediately Devon lost what tiny bit of lift she had and started to free fall again.

This time she was ready. Good body position—head up, arms and legs akimbo. Once she was stable, she traced her fingers down her harness to the handle for her reserve chute...and pulled it.

If this doesn’t work, it’s lights-out for me.

The chute sprang open, and Devon jerked to a sudden halt, the sound of the rushing wind in her ears giving way to a blessed silence. Her heart in her throat, she looked up. Both sides of the parachute were fat with air, the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

For a moment she closed her eyes, letting the sweet relief wash over her and banish the fear. Then she keyed into the group net: “Cutaway successful.”

Rhys’s voice sounded a little bit shaky as he croaked in reply, “Copy that. See you on the ground.”

She pulled on the steering lines, and her canopy responded, sending her into a wide, sweeping turn. Below her, her teammates were landing one by one, grounding their chutes and then dragging them out of the way before turning to look up into the sky.

They were waving their arms wildly at her, cheering her on.

Devon focused on the landing zone. By all that was holy, after this, she was gonna hit that motherfucker square on. As she drifted down, she finessed the steering lines. She kept her head up, eyes focused on the horizon, and bent her knees.

Light as a feather.

Just as her boots touched earth, a dust devil, a rogue gust of wind, swirled by. Her parachute was instantly turned into a sail and it yanked her several feet back into the air. The microburst died as fast as it’d appeared, dropping Devon like a stone and sending her tumbling ass over teakettle. Her helmeted head slammed into a rock...

...and everything went black.

Chapter Seven

Rhys reached Devon’s side before her body had even rolled to a stop.

“Help me!” he cried. Several guys were there in a flash, and Rhys positioned them at her shoulders, hips and legs. “Turn her on my count.”

Rhys held her head and neck steady as he counted backward from three to one, and in one smooth motion, they turned her onto her back.

“What do we do now, Doc?”

“Cut that thing off her.” Rhys waved his hand at the pack weighing down her chest. A knife blade flashed as Aaron yanked it from the sheath on his thigh and cut the straps before heaving it aside.

The rest of the guys gathered in a semicircle around them. They were quiet as Rhys eased her helmet from her head and ran his fingers through her hair, looking for an injury. Her chest rose and fell in a reassuring rhythm, and when he felt her pulse, it beat strong and steady.

“Need to check for broken bones,” he muttered. “Someone call a bus.”

Smudge pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away to speak urgently into it.

Rhys ran his hands along one of Devon’s thighs and down to her ankle before repeating the motion on the other side. “Hold her ankles steady,” he instructed Matt. “Put her heels together, toes up.”

They were in perfect alignment. No broken leg. No broken pelvis.

With swift fingers, Rhys unbuttoned her uniform blouse and skimmed his palms along her ribs. He was pulling her T-shirt out of her pants to palpate her belly for internal bleeding when he heard a tiny intake of air.

Rhys looked up into Devon’s face and smiled. “I think you’re gonna be okay...” he started to say, then froze.

Devon’s eyes were open, but they were staring at something Rhys couldn’t see, the usual warm brown almost black with terror.

“No,” she breathed.

Unsure of what was going on, Rhys patted her hip. “Devon—”

“No!” The one word was tortured, seemingly dragged up from the depths of her soul.

Before Rhys could react, Devon balled up her fist and swung it at his face. He ducked, but she still managed to deal him a glancing blow to his ear. He grunted as pain exploded in his head.