Callum went to work, checking Declan’s stomach. He hissed in a breath. “Made a mess here.”
“Was the bad guys…not me.”
“Shh.” She smoothed his hair. “Don’t talk.”
Callum’s hands were quick and experienced. She saw the same military experience in him as Declan. He yanked off a small backpack and pulled out a field first aid kit.
The other two members of the team appeared.
“Place is clear. Bad guys are all dead.” Hale was holding a deadly looking assault rifle. “Either shot or—” he grimaced “—chewed on.”
“Thanks, Hale,” Logan said.
“I’ll take a look at the tunnels, see if the dogs missed anyone,” Hale added.
“My boy, could you not have discovered the temple without getting shot?” The fourth member of the team stepped closer.
Layne’s eyes widened. It was an older woman, tiny, barely five feet tall, but with a trim, fit body. Her hair was a sleek shade of gray and she had Declan’s gray eyes.
Oh, my God. Layne couldn’t believe this was Persephone Ward—world-famous treasure hunter and Declan’s mother.
“Hi…Mom.”
Persephone knelt beside her son. “You hold on, we’ll get you all fixed up.”
“Putting fluids in now. He’s lost a lot of blood, Mom.” Callum slid a needle into Declan’s arm.
“He’s tough.” Persephone’s gaze flicked up to Layne. “A pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
“Ah…you too.”
“Well done on your find, Dr. Rush.” The treasure hunter smiled, still stroking her son’s hair. “You’ll be famous.”
“That’s not really why I do this job.”
Persephone sniffed. “You sound like my husband. Nothing wrong with a bit of fame.”
Declan’s hand moved in Layne’s. “You’re safe now,” she murmured.
Suddenly, he groaned, his back arching. Then his eyes closed, and he went still. Impossibly still.
Her heart just stopped. “Declan!”
Callum cursed. “Shit, we’re losing him.”
Layne found herself pushed back, to give the others space. Callum and Logan leaned over Declan, blocking her view. She pressed a fist to her mouth.
“Come on, bro, don’t you fucking give up on me now.”
Logan touched his ear. “Morgan, we’re gonna need the basket for Dec.”
Layne couldn’t lose him. God, she wished she could touch him, but they didn’t need her in the way.
“Ah, there you go. Yeah, open your eyes, Dec.”
“Layne. Need Layne.”
His words were barely a whisper but she heard, her chest constricting.
“Come on, sweetie.” Persephone ushered her forward.
Layne touched his pale cheek. His eyes found hers and he didn’t look away.
“I’m here, Declan. You hold on.”
He watched her like her gaze was the only thing holding him there.
She leaned down and nuzzled his cheek, her lips at his ear. “Remember, I have that red bikini. I want to wear it for you.”
Callum shifted. “Shit, with her touching him, his vitals have evened out a bit.” His gaze zeroed in on Layne. “I think my love-phobic brother has taken the plunge.”
“Here comes the basket,” Hale said.
Layne didn’t look away from Declan, but she sensed movement above and knew the rescue basket was being lowered for Declan.
“Layne?” Callum said.
“Yes?” She didn’t look away from Declan and kept her hand wrapped tight in his.
“I want you to stay with him. You’re helping him. Think you can ride up with the basket to the helicopter?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“All right, people. Let’s do this.”
Layne ignored the frenzied movements around her, just watched the man she loved, staring into his eyes, holding him to the life she wanted to share with him.
“You can’t die, Declan. You’ve shown me how to feel again and I want more of that.” She pressed her face close to his as the basket rose to the hovering helicopter. “I love you. Please hold on.”
Callum kept his arm around his mother and fought the urge to pace the bland hospital corridor. They’d made it back to Luxor and the Luxor International Hospital was in a large, modern building with good facilities.
He just hoped to hell it was good enough. Cal let out a sharp breath and stared at his hands. Saw his brother’s blood still smudged on them. Dec’s heart had stopped in the helo and Cal’s resuscitation had been the only thing keeping him alive.
God. Cal worked his jaw. For a second, he was thrown back to a dusty street in Afghanistan, another man who was like a brother to him dying in his arms. Cal could smell the blood, hear Marty’s choked noises, and felt the same sense of hopelessness.