Chapter 33
Unfortunately, we’d gotten out of bed and dressed.
I would’ve much rather have stayed where we were but Brooks was right.
We needed to talk to the guys. Leon Brown being MIA was a problem.
And now that we had confirmation he’d ordered my weapon to be rendered useless, it wasn’t a stretch he’d also sold us out to Al Issa.
I’d started to open the bedroom door when Brooks stopped me and pulled me close.
God, I loved being in his arms. Loved when he wrapped me tight and looked down at me.
I felt loved and protected and that was okay because I knew he believed I could take care of myself.
For some reason, that made all the difference.
Him respecting me as an equal allowed me to lower my guard.
It felt good, something I’d never had before.
I didn’t have to prove to Brooks I was good enough, he already thought I was.
His head lowered and his firm lips touched mine. It was a sweet kiss, all too short, the kind that left you begging for more.
“Later when we get back into bed, I’m gonna show you how much I love you.”
My world shook. Fireworks sounded. My vision dimmed.
It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t his declaration of love that had tilted my universe.
The house had literally shook. There were no fireworks bursting in my mind, we were taking heavy artillery.
My eyes hadn’t clouded over in a haze of joy and happiness, the lights were out and the ceiling was crumbling.
“Fuck. Stay at my back,” he ordered.
The only indication he’d opened the door was the creak, it was that pitch-black. I had to shuffle my feet so I wouldn’t trip on the broken pieces of plaster on the floor.
“SITREP?” Declan shouted.
“Four out front approaching,” Max answered.
I collided with Brooks’ back when he came to a halt. “Here.”
I fumbled with the helmet that was shoved into my chest, barely keeping ahold of the gun in my hand. I shoved my weapon into the waistband of my cargos, happy we’d gotten dressed before the attack, and strapped the helmet on, fumbling in the dark to pull the night vision goggles down.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the green tint and the room to come into focus.
Max was standing to the side of the blown-out window, Kyle standing next to him struggling to tie his boots.
Declan was coming into the living room strapping on his vest. Thad had AR15s slung over his shoulder.
He dropped the load on the couch and took off back toward the bedrooms.
Declan picked an AR and tossed it in Brooks’ direction. He easily snagged the rifle midair and handed it back to me.
Another burst of gunfire splintered the door, bullets whizzing by us in all directions.
“Goddammit!” Declan yelled before he returned fire. “You two cover the back.”
“Roger.” Brooks turned and started back down the hallway we’d just come from.
Now that I could see the destruction, I was amazed the house hadn’t completely collapsed. Not to say it wouldn’t at any time. Plaster and other debris crunched under my boots, the odor of spent gunpowder thick in the small house told the seriousness of our situation.
“Take right,” Brooks ordered.
Wordlessly, I complied, covering our three o’clock as we approached the bullet-ridden back door. Brooks broke left without a moment to spare. The battered door blew in, exploding into hundreds of pieces of deadly flying shrapnel.
I turned my back to the blast and crouched, covering my head the best I could.
Heat from the discharge waned, I stood and turned in time to see the first man enter, the barrel of his rifle aimed at Brooks’ prone body.
Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger and moved to the man behind him, firing a second round.
With my night vision goggles askew from the initial attack on the door, I’d missed the third man.
The wind was knocked out of me right before hot, searing pain radiated through my left arm.
I stumbled back, lost my footing, and landed on my ass with a bone-jarring thud.
This was it, this was how I died, on the floor of a ramshackle house in the middle of the Saudi desert, never telling Brooks I loved him back.
Fuck. This couldn’t be it. This was not how I was going to let our story end.
I had to pull my shit together, not fighting would be suicide.
With great effort, I lifted my AR. More gunfire exploded.
Mine and his. Both bullets tore through flesh, mine pierced his throat, his hit my leg.
Red liquid soaked my clothes as blood freely flowed from my gunshot wounds.
The pain was near-crippling. Neither would stop me from getting to Brooks.
It was a miracle I’d gotten to my feet at all, but once I did, I wished I’d crawled.
I could’ve moved faster if I’d stayed on my hands and knees.
With awkward, jerky strides, I got to Brooks.
Blood was covering his face and for a moment I was afraid I was going to throw up.
The bitter scent of smoke and blood mingled together into a pungent smell that threatened to take my breath.
The guys were still taking gunfire from the front of the house.
If I didn’t move Brooks to safety we’d both die.
At least I hoped he was still alive. He wasn’t moving and there was so much blood pooling around him, I wasn’t sure what was his, the three dead men’s, or mine.
It all was mixing together in a brew of demise.
Balanced the best I could on my good leg, I reached down and found the grab drag handle on the back of Brooks’ tactical vest and prayed to all things holy I had the strength to move him.
“Come on, Brooks, move.” I yanked as hard as I could and staggered before I caught my balance.
He’d only moved a fraction of an inch, but it was something.
It was going to take an act of God, he was so much bigger than me, and my leg was screaming in pain.
The team was engaged in a firefight, I was Brooks only chance.
Our only chance. Even if I yelled for help, I doubted the guys would’ve been able to hear me over the barrage of bullets being exchanged.
Ten feet, I just had to get him back into the hallway.
On an exhale, I pulled and he slid. With a strength I hadn’t known I possessed, I continued to pull.
We inched our way down the hall. It seemed like it took forever, I was exhausted by the time I felt it safe enough to stop.
It wasn’t as far as I’d wanted to take him, but at least we weren’t in the doorway anymore.
It may’ve taken minutes, or it may’ve taken an hour.
I had no perception of time. I was fucked, completely and totally screwed.
My vision was blurring, and I was getting lightheaded.
I needed to check Brooks’ injuries, but I knew if I tried to kneel beside him, I’d never get up.
The only thing that was keeping me alive was adrenaline and it was quickly waning.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Brooks!” I screamed in frustration.
There was nothing left for me to do. I didn’t have enough energy to pull the combat gauze or the WoundStat from my vest. Either of those would at least slow the bleeding in my leg. All I could do was keep my AR trained toward the back door and shoot anyone who tried to enter.
“I love you,” I whispered.
A cold chill raced down my spine – what if Brooks was already dead, what if he was waiting for me on the other side? What if I just closed my eyes for a second? What if?—