“Ehhhnnt,” JP buzzed, before giving the correct answer in his heavy French accent. “Zéro, stupid.”
“Well, that sucks,” he huffed, lifting his arm to rub his peepers, but instead of coming into contact with squishy eyeballs, his fingers landed on a layer of gauze. Which explained a lot.
“Touche pas.”
Hand batted away, Grant let it fall to his side. “How bad is it?” he asked.
“Let’s just say, your face looks like you went twelve rounds with a cheese grater,” Tom One said.
“And lost,” T-Two added.
“That bad, huh?”
Tom One huffed. “Not as bad as the hole in your head, asshole. You need stitches.”
“Lots of stitches,” T-Two filled in, offering less than greater clarity. “And a brainotomy. What the fuck, man?”
“What?” Grant bitched, getting defensive—and queasy—as the rocking motion of the ocean registered and his stomach protested the movement. He’d had enough of the Bering Sea for one day. “It’s not like any one of you wouldn’t have done the same.”
“JP did do the same, fucknut. He just did it the right way.”
“With a fucking rescue line attached.”
“Oh…” Frustrated by not being able to see, he lifted the bandage away from one eye. Nope. Nothing on the left. Couldn’t even crack the seal. He switched hands and tried the right. Blurry. Unfocused. But enough visual acuity to make out the interior of a cabin and the three goons hovering around his landing pad like a trio of clucking hens. “Thanks, JP. I owe you one.”
“Anytime, mon ami.” His hand landed on Grant’s shoulder and squeezed. “And thanks for sticking around this time, eh.”
Grant huffed a laugh. Mistake. God damn, his head hurt. More and more with each passing second. “How’d you find me anyway?”
“Ryder,” T-Two said. “She gave us your coordinates.”
“Still a fucking miracle,” Tom One grumbled.
“I’ll take it,” he said, sending up a heartfelt thank you to his grandparents for watching over him. “What about the rest? Did everyone make it off the island?”
“Yep. Gang’s all here, alive and kicking.”
“And Jay?”
“The Captain Crunch computer guy who drove a dirt bike off a cliff?” T-Two clarified because Grant had used Jay’s real name instead of his alias.
“Yeah.”
“Unconscious, but hanging in.” Tom One replied. “It’s Madelyn we’re worried about.”
“Ryder?” Grant said, taking his sweet ass time putting the female name together with the only female member of the team. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She picked up some lead.”
“How bad?”
“Don’t know,” T-Two replied. “We’re docking soon, so we’re about to find out.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s roll.” Eager to check on the condition of his teammates, he threw his blanket aside and stood too fast. His legs gave out. Multiple sets of hands grabbed him. And a cold breeze wafted in, landing in places it shouldn’t. “Uh? Where are my pants?” He looked around even though he still couldn’t see shit.
Tom One snorted. “I’d be more worried about where your big dick disappeared to.”
“Yeah,” T-Two agreed. “Or is that little shriveled sausage your new normal?”
