Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Wind knifed over the saddle peak, thinning the fog as it swirled up the face — danced a flurry of pine needles across the slick rock.
The last of the light glowed along the horizon, the towering spruce black against the graying sky.
Rain moved along the open water, the incoming storm already bending the distant trees.
Bodie crouched behind a waist-high basalt nub, leg screaming, breath controlled.
He had his carbine at the ready, the magazine too light for what they faced.
One of the merc’s short-barrel rifles sat beside him, only a few shots left, but he’d brought it, regardless.
He’d also grabbed a device off the one guy’s MOLLE vest. Body cam, or maybe a digital monitoring unit.
A mystery he’d solve after they’d gotten out alive.
Dalton settled off to his right, calm, steady, the man’s sniper training on full display. Buck hovered over Wade, pistol in one hand, fresh gauze in the other. He looked oddly detached, as if he’d left part himself back in the woods.
Pain tightened Bodie’s chest.
They’d all left part of themselves behind, those tags like stone in his pocket. A reminder of all he still had to lose and a promise of a debt he now owed.
His gaze shifted to Rowan. He’d worked with her a few dozen times during joint task forces — searches involving the various national and state parks.
She’d always been fierce, often the only voice of reason when tempers flared.
And there was no question her beauty and intelligence could stop traffic. But seeing her in action…
She’d earned more than just his respect.
She’d earned his trust.
Movement.
Rustling the salal. Shifting the fog. The men stayed low, used the tree trunks for cover. Bodie noted three lanes up the ridge — left trail, center gully and little more than a goat path off to the right. All viable. All a threat.
Dalton focused on the left, rifle seated against his shoulder, body like a statue as he sighted down the scree field. Little wisps formed around his head whenever he pushed out a slow breath, his finger gently caressing the trigger.
Next to Bodie, Rowan had the center lane lined up, looking just as cool as Dalton. No wasted energy, no hesitation, just steady hands against the weapon. She shifted her gaze for a moment, eyeing him as if she wanted to figure him out, before nodding toward the ridge line.
“I’ve got movement, gents. Four o’clock.”
Bodie zeroed in with his carbine. A head appeared above the brush, a short-barrel rifle aimed their way. Bodie squeezed the trigger — two quick shots, dead center of the bush. The guy fell backward, a throaty growl rising above the wind, then silence.
Bodie spanned across, checked for more targets, when a burst of rounds ricocheted off the stone. Shards stung his face, more answering shots pelting the rocks next to Dalton and Rowan.
Bodie waited out the wave, returning a few more pulls before sliding over a few feet. “Keep shifting. Don’t give them a pattern.”
Dalton already had his rifle positioned several feet to the left, tracking some asshole trying to flank them. His buddy exhaled, fired — the target dropped a heartbeat later. He glanced at Bodie, showed a couple fingers.
Two shots left.
Bodie turned to Rowan. “How’s your ammo?”
Her jaw clenched as she sighed. “Three for the rifle. Ten for the Sig.”
What should have been more than enough, except where the men just seemed to keep coming. A never-ending line of targets with a single purpose.
Rowan cursed. “I’ve got two flanking left.” She adjusted the scope, smooth, unhurried, then dropped the front runner. Tight and high, just beyond his vest in his upper right shoulder. Clean. Non-lethal but effective. His partner hit the ground, slithered back into the brush.
Bodie checked his watch. “Eight minutes. Buck? How’s Wade?”
Buck pursed his lips into a thin line. “Tachy. Breathing’s labored. He needs a damn medic.”
“Do your best, brother.”
Rowan scooted over. “Buck’s not a medic?”
“Ordinance, and the best tracker you’ll ever find. Ironically, Wade’s our trained wilderness medic. He’s why we have some advanced supplies in our kit. Why?”
“With the wound care, I just thought…” She offered him her rifle. “If you think you can handle her, I’ll see if I can help Wade.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re also a medic?”
“Don’t go getting all starry-eyed. It’s a holdover from my uniform days, and I stay current, just in case, though, it’s been a while.” She held it out. “You good?”
Bodie took the weapon. “Stay low.”
She shook her head as if she thought he was nuts, when a thump slapped the air.
Low. Heavy. As if the earth had heaved beneath them.
Bodie lunged at her, shoved her beneath him on the ground as a hushed whoosh soared overhead, hitting the ridge high and wide.
Shooting rocks and moss into the air in a rain of stinging shrapnel.
He glanced over his shoulder, gauging the next attack when Dalton’s rifle cracked beside him.
“Launcher down.” Dalton’s voice rasped through the air, deep, flat, a hint of what sounded like regret laced in the words.
Rowan stared up at Bodie as he eased back, eyes wide, clearly assessing him before she scrambled over to Wade, grabbed supplies out of their combined med kit. Two minutes flat and she’d decompressed a pneumo thorax, had an IV going for fluids.
Buck shifted in beside him, looking back at Rowan over his shoulder. “She’s impressive.”
“She’s something.”
“She should look at your leg before you bleed out.”
“I’m fine.”
“Tell that to your face because if you keep grimacing, it’ll get stuck that way.”
Bodie waved it off, shoved the pain into the box he’d labeled later, then took up Rowan’s scope. He scanned the line, cursing when a string of men charged up from every direction. No fancy strategies, just muscle and bullets.
Dirt exploded across his face, a few of the rounds whizzing past his shoulder before he returned fire — clipped the forerunner twice in his ballistic vest. Not fatal, but it scattered the remaining men. Had them folding back into the greenery, leaving only misty breath and drifting grit.
Another time check.
Three minutes.
He looked up at Rowan. Hands compressed around Wade’s thigh, she barely noticed the last few pops of gunfire blazing far too close to her shoulder, her attention divided between his buddy and the horizon.
That’s when he heard it. A faint thunder that grew louder until the steady beat echoed clear to his bones.
Chopper.
Rowan reached into her pocket, drew another canister. She cracked it open, then tossed it across the plateau. It skipped along the rock, pouring out blue smoke that tore sideways as the wind sliced through — carried it off.
The helicopter’s searchlight speared through the fog and the smoke, lighting up patches of rock as it bore down on them, the side doors sliding open.
Either Kash Sinclair or Zain Everett appeared in the space, silhouette backlit by the last vestiges of light.
Muzzle flashes sparked to life, the rounds eating up the dirt below the ridge.
The attack increased, the mercs throwing all their resources at the chopper and the ridge until the rotor wash caught the smoke — whipped it sideways. The cold air sliced through their clothing, the strum vibrating clear through the rock.
Beckett toed the bird onto the cliff, the skids grinding against the stone — flattening the scrubby grass and smoke — just as all three men exited the chopper, racing over to them in perfect sync.
Their medic, Chase Remington, former pararescue and the guy married to Bodie’s boss, Sheriff Greer Hudson, dropped down beside Wade, head bent low as he talked to Rowan.
Kash Sinclair and his furry sidekick, Nyx slipped in beside Dalton, Zain Everett, resident sniper and straight-up badass, took a knee beside Bodie.
Zain shook his head. “Thought this was a routine scouting mission? Some geologists or something?”
Bodie fired off the last of his rounds. “So did I, but…”
Zain nodded, glancing around. “Where’s Price?”
Bodie’s heart thumped over hard, an emptiness settling in his gut as he rolled his shoulders. Grunted. “Didn’t make it.”
“Shit.” Zain made a few hand signals to the rest of his crew. “Chase just needs a bit more time to stabilize Wade before he can put him in the helicopter. Hang tight. Kash and I’ll hold down the line.”
“We’re not dead yet, buddy.”
“Have you looked at your leg? Because it suggests differently.”
On cue, fire laced up Bodie’s thigh, all the metal burning to life.
He wasn’t sure if it was only the new chunks or some of the older fragments the military doctors hadn’t removed — the ones where extraction would have caused more damage than good.
Regardless, the pain blurred the edges of his vision, had the scenery tilting off to one side.
Buck’s hand landed on Bodie’s shoulder. “By the look on your face, it’s later.”
Bodie chuckled. “You’ve become a real pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Bodie. The right day, the right trigger…” Buck tapped his temple. “It’s still ten shades of crazy up here.”
“Can’t ask for more than you gave today, brother.”
Buck’s mouth quirked. He wasn’t completely wrong. Buck still had moments of confusion, where the veil between reality and conspiracy thinned, but he’d turned a corner after nearly dying a year ago — helping save Greer — had pulled himself out of the abyss.
Zain cupped Bodie’s shoulder. “Chase is ready. We’ll lay down cover fire. You three haul ass for the chopper. Make sure Special Agent Scott gets onboard, too, because she might be even more stubborn than you lot.”
Buck eyed Bodie. “Special Agent Scott?”
Bodie nodded. “That badge she mentioned earlier. She’s National Park Service, Investigative Services Branch. Hardcore, as you’ve witnessed.”
“Sounds like the kind of girl you’ve been looking for.”
“Shut up and run.”