I really wanted to get the hell out of this store and go find Marcus, but if I started to move, I’d more than likely cause the roof to come down on top of me. I needed somebody to move stuff from the outside in so I had an escape route without moving some of the supports around me that were keeping me from getting crushed.
My heart started to hammer as I heard movement coming from outside the building. I could hear people working on digging me out. Although I had no patience for waiting, I had to keep myself alive so I could do everything I could to help Marcus. I had to find him, and to accomplish that, I’d have to get out of this spot alive.
“Danica!”
My heart lurched as I heard a male voice calling my name. A tone that sounded very much like Marcus.
My eyes popped open, and I could see someone progressively making their way to my location, the masculine figure tossing large pieces of debris aside much faster than he ought to be able to move.
“Marcus!” I shrieked.
“Dani?” he called, his voice hoarse and stressed out.
“I’m here. Be careful. The roof is going to collapse. There isn’t much holding it above the ground.”
I could see him now, and I watched as he pushed away the loose wood, being careful that he didn’t yank out a necessary piece.
“Are you okay?” he hollered.
“Yes. I just need an opening to get out. If I move some of these pieces near me to get out of here, I’m afraid the roof will go.”
“Don’t fucking move,” Marcus demanded. “I’ll clear a path from here.”
“Are you okay?” I asked anxiously.
“Hell, no, I’m not okay. I’m goddamn terrified that you’re going to get crushed.”
It was a typical Marcus kind of reply, but so incredibly sweet that it made my tears flow steadily. “I meant are you physically all right? Were you hurt in the explosion?”
“I’ll live,” he said in a voice loud enough to travel.
To me, that meant that he was injured, but didn’t want to admit it.
I finally saw his face as he crouched at the end of an opening he’d cleared with his bare hands.
“Marcus, you are hurt,” I cried out, anxious because I could see the blood on his face.
“I’m fine,” he said sharply. “Right now all I want is to get you out of here. Can you give me your hands without upsetting anything? I’ll pull you out through the area I just cleared.”
He was downplaying his injuries, but I wasn’t going to get any answers until I got away from the building.
“Yes. I can move them.” I lifted my arms carefully, stretching out so I could clasp his hands.
“Are you hurt? I don’t want to make anything worse,” he questioned hesitantly.
“No,” I replied. “I was confused for a few minutes, but I’m not hurt.”
He reached into my space, grasping my hands and then pulled me out, slow and steady. I carefully tried to keep myself positioned away from the beams that I was fairly certain was keeping the roof from hitting the ground.
In just a few moments, I was out, away from the building, and being held tightly in Marcus’s arms.
We clung to each other, and I never wanted to let him go. In the moments I’d questioned whether or not he was still alive, I’d nearly died myself.
“Baris?” I asked anxiously about my friend as I hugged Marcus just as firmly as he was holding me.
“He’s okay,” Marcus answered. “Just a few minor injuries. He’s being treated at the clinic.”
I pulled back so I could look at him.
I reached up to touch the gash on his head. I couldn’t help but notice his hands were also bleeding from digging through the wood and glass to get me out of my prison barehanded. “You’re hurt, Marcus. You need to get to the medical clinic.”
The wound on his head was open and blood was still flowing from his injury. The shirt that had been white this morning was now covered in his blood. No doubt the head wound had just kept on bleeding as he’d pulled me out of the wreckage of the store.
“I’m good,” he said in a tone heavy with emotion. “I just want to get you the hell out of here.”
“I’m okay,” I argued.
“I’m not,” he confessed. “I don’t ever want to live through another incident of not knowing whether you’re dead or alive, Danica. I can’t.”
“I was scared, too,” I said in a tremulous voice as I put my arms around him again and hugged him to me. “I knew you were outside. I didn’t know where you were when the bomb exploded.”
“I was worrying about you. It seems I’m rather good at doing that now,” he answered, his torn-up hands stroking over my hair in a comforting motion.
“We’re safe,” I said tearfully, the enormity of what had just happened starting to sink in.
“Let’s go home,” he suggested, but he didn’t move.
“We have to find those women—”
“They’re safe,” Marcus told me. “Somebody helped them get home. Jett confirmed it.”
Oh, God. The irony didn’t escape me that we were in Turkey looking for the two women, and they were home safe. We’d nearly gotten ourselves killed for two females who hadn’t needed our help.
Even though it hurt to separate myself from Marcus, I pulled back so we could leave. “You need to have your injuries checked before we go,” I insisted, concerned about the size of the laceration on his head.
“I’ll have them checked when we get home,” he said stubbornly.
“Now,” I demanded.
I expected a smart-ass answer, and I was actually concerned when I didn’t get it. I looked at Marcus anxiously, noting that he was pale, and he was holding his hand to his head.
“I’ll be...” His voice trailed off as he sat down on a nearby crate that hadn’t been blown away.
I squatted beside him. “Marcus, talk to me,” I said in a panic.
He never said another word.
He lost consciousness as I struggled to hold him up, screaming for somebody—anybody—to help me.
Dani
Two days later, we were finally on board Marcus’s jet, headed for home.
He’d scared the hell out of me, and I’d never let him forget it. After he’d been treated as much as he could be at the medical clinic, he’d been transported to the capital city for further testing. He’d stayed a few days there for observation after the tests had come out negative for fractures. Marcus had one hell of a concussion, but he was recovering.
Luckily, the suicide bomber had been inexperienced. Just a girl, really, somewhere around the age of eighteen. Alone, she’d wandered into the wrong part of the town, and there had been plenty of damage, but no fatalities except for the rebel bomber.
I mourned the life of somebody that young, and I’d felt a profound sadness that she’d been so full of violence.
“Hey, are you okay?” Marcus asked from his supine position on the bed. We’d lifted off and then I’d insisted on bringing him back to rest.
I was sitting cross-legged next to him, lost in my thoughts as I looked at the bandage on his forehead. I’d lost count of the number of sutures it had taken to close his laceration, but it was healing well. “Just tired, I guess,” I answered as I smiled down at him.
“You are in a bed now,” he reminded me.
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “I know. But I’ve had a hard time sleeping.”
“Worried about me?” he asked curiously.
I gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, I was worried.”