Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Shaun nodded, his eyes trained on the bolt cutters, as the man wrapped the jaws around the metal of the lock and squeezed.
The snap of the cutter’s jaws slamming together told of the power the other man had to exert to break the damn thing.
Shaun gasped, and his body exploded with pain as he was dragged out of the confined space.
When the knife split the rope, allowing his arms to drop from behind his back to his waist, he clamped his mouth shut and bit down on the inside of his cheek.
Although he didn’t utter another sound, the tears tracking down his face told the story of the pain he was in.
“I’m sorry,” his rescuer murmured as Shaun sagged against him.
“We have to get out of here.” The man adjusted his grip and pulled Shaun closer, taking more of his weight as another wave of pain rolled through him.
Shaun tasted blood in his mouth where he’d bitten the inside of his cheek and concentrated on breathing through it without making a fucking sound. “Can you move under your own steam?”
A nod in answer would just have to do, as he wasn’t entirely sure that he could open his mouth without yelling out in pain or cursing yet.
He didn’t know who this man was, but he was American; trained, too, by the way he and the two men with him moved.
They were here, and there was no way he was letting him leave without him, because there was no doubt this team was heading to an extraction point somewhere.
Come hell or high water, he was getting on that damn bird with them.
Shaun tried to speak to his rescuer, but his tongue felt too swollen and dry to form the words.
The man took one look at him, reached for the hose from the Camelbak hydration pack on his back, and held it out.
Shaun could have fucking kissed him for understanding without needing an explanation.
He took a long pull before forcing himself to stop long enough to swish the first mouthful around and spit it onto the cave floor.
The water came out tinged red, which didn’t surprise him considering he could already feel several loose teeth when he ran his tongue carefully over them.
He reached for the hose again, and nothing had ever tasted quite as fucking good as that first warm sip of water finally sliding down his throat.
“Slowly,” The man warned as he pulled the hose away as if he hated to do it. “Too much will make you sick.”
Shaun nodded and took slow, even sips, relishing the fact he had a chance now.
He forced his body to remain submissive, tramping down on the urge to start giving orders.
A Ghost was always at the top of the food chain, but right this second he didn’t give a shit about chain of command or who ruled what.
It was time to get his ass the hell out of here and to contact Rock before he and the team burned Syria to the ground looking for him.
His rescuer grasped his upper arms and kept them tucked close to his body as he helped him to his feet, careful enough with the movement that Shaun figured the man had already realized how badly his shoulders fucking hurt.
His legs almost betrayed him the second his weight hit them, and he sagged against the solid body beside him before forcing his knees to lock and straighten again.
He tipped his head toward the cave entrance, letting the man know he was ready to move.
A steadying hand settled on his hip instead, firm without digging into any of the places already screaming in pain.
“Ready?”
At Shaun’s nod, he moved and put Shaun’s hand on his waist. “Grab my belt, no matter what happens, don’t let go.”
Shaun hesitated. “Do you have a backup weapon?” he whispered. He felt naked with no weapons; the sooner he had one, the quicker he could start pulling the shreds of his control back together.
His rescuer squeezed his eyes shut for a second before looking back at Shaun.
Whatever argument the man was having with himself, Shaun hoped like hell common sense won, because if they ran into more tangos on the way out, he would be a hell of a lot more useful armed than hanging onto the guy’s belt like dead weight.
“Tell me you know how to shoot, Jacobsen. My boss is going to kick my ass from here to next Christmas for handing an unknown a loaded weapon.”
“I grew up on a ranch in Colorado.” His voice was husky and raw, probably from a mix of misuse and screaming. “And my father was a Marine. I could shoot before I started first grade.”
“Thank fuck for that.” A smile quirked up the corners of his rescuer’s lips as he lifted one leg and pulled a spare Sig from an ankle holster.
Shaun’s attention locked onto the weapon as the man checked it before handing it over with an extra mag.
Fuck, that felt better. The familiar weight settled into Shaun’s hand, giving him back one small piece of the control he’d lost when those bastards dragged him into that cave.
“Try not to shoot me, yeah? My boss is already going to kick my ass for giving you the damn thing. If you shoot me with it, he’ll probably follow my ass to the gates of hell just so he can kick me in the balls again.”
“Don’t shoot the knight in shining armor,” Shaun muttered under his breath, catching the slight quirk at the corner of his rescuer’s mouth anyway.
He tightened his grip on the Sig and glanced toward the two men waiting near the cavern entrance.
“Tell me there are more than you three out there waiting for us?”
“Nope, just us.” His rescuer caught Shaun’s free hand and put it back on his belt. “Stay right on my six.”
Shaun almost laughed. Yeah, definitely fucking military.
Along with how to shoot, he’d known what six meant long before he joined the Ghosts, courtesy of growing up with a Marine for a father, and he tightened his fingers around the man’s belt without wasting either of their time asking questions he already knew the answers to.
Shaun stayed tight on his rescuer’s six as the other man fell into step in front of the operator, leading them out of the cave, while the third took up position behind Shaun to cover their retreat.
Every step jarred through his battered body, but he kept his hand locked around the man’s belt and the Sig ready in his other hand as they retraced their route toward the cave entrance.
When the faint wash of night beyond the opening finally came into view, the man in front of him reached for his comms.
“TOC, how are we looking?”
Shaun couldn’t hear the response through the man’s earpiece, but his rescuer paused for barely a second before glancing back at him. “Clear. Are you ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
Relief hit hard enough that he had to swallow before he answered. “Yeah,” he whispered, staying close enough that he didn’t have to risk raising his voice. “I sure am.”
His rescuer reached back, caught his fingers where they were wrapped around his belt, and gave them a quick squeeze. “Then we’re moving.”
Getting out of the cave went to plan, which was about as much as Shaun was willing to give the universe right now.
Calling anything easy while they were still in hostile territory was the fastest fucking way to tempt some asshole with an RPG into proving him wrong.
He stayed with the three operators while they gathered the gear they had stashed before entering the cave, then fell back into formation as they started toward whatever extraction point the team had waiting for them.
Once they had put some distance between themselves and the cave, his rescuer signaled a stop and crouched down behind the available cover.
Shaun followed him immediately, grateful for the chance to get off his feet even if he would rather chew glass than admit it.
Every step since leaving that fucking cage had jarred his back and shoulders, and keeping pace with three uninjured operators had taken everything he had.
The other two men silently moved into positions where they could watch their surroundings while his rescuer turned his attention to Shaun.
“How are you doing?”
“Good,” Shaun answered. “What do I call you? How did you find me?” Shaun was working through the possibilities in his mind.
These men moved like a special ops team, their motions and hand signals almost familiar.
Although the slight differences almost reminded him of his own team, so maybe a task force?
He pegged the first man as Navy, possibly a SEAL.
Taller than his own six-foot height by at least four or five inches, in any other time and place Shaun would be damn tempted to see if he was interested in some fun.
The others were just as tall, one blond and one dark-haired.
Shaun wasn’t sure about the dark-haired one.
He reminded him of some of the Delta operators he knew, especially one on his own team.
The other one, yeah, he was definitely a Marine if he ever saw one.
Even his hair was still cut in the same high and tight style he’d probably worn for years.
“Pure dumb luck.” His rescuer flipped down his night vision goggles and began a slow search of the surrounding terrain, taking his time over each section before moving to the next.
Shaun watched him work while he waited for something more useful than dumb fucking luck.
If his guess about these men being Special Forces was right, the guy couldn’t tell him why they were in Syria or what mission had put them on this mountain, so Shaun wasn’t surprised when the answer finally came with fuck-all in the way of actual information.
“We were passing by and thought you might like to come out to play.”
“Classified shit, huh?” Shaun understood classified. He’d figure it out when they got to where they were going.