Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 10) (24 page)

“No rifle at least.”

Brody peered through the binos. “Civilian?”

“Maybe.”

Nah, couldn’t be. Not out here, not in this storm.

He clenched his jaw. The rules of engagement for this mission didn’t allow them to take out an unarmed target, something their Jordanian hosts had been adamant about. Even if there was a possibility this man might give away their position, if he was unarmed, Brody and his guys couldn’t take him out.

But they sure as hell couldn’t afford to let him get close enough to spot them, give away their positions to the enemy coming at them from below.

“I’ll get him. Everyone else, hold your position and be ready to move. If any of those assholes come within range, take them out. We have to hold them off until the assault team gets the hostages aboard the helos.”

Moving fast, he stayed below the lip of the ridge to help conceal his path. Wind gusts pushed and pulled at him as he ran, headed straight for the unsuspecting man. Hunting and stalking were second nature to him—he’d been doing it since he was a kid back home in Virginia, where he’d grown up with a gunny sergeant father and three brothers. The Marine Corps had helped him perfect those useful arts.

Brody paused at twenty yards away from his target. The guy definitely wasn’t carrying a rifle. He was headed straight toward Brody, seemed to be headed for a path Brody had seen that would take him down to the valley.

So he could warn the reserve force?

Not fucking happening, pal.

He crept closer, thankful for the flying sand that helped conceal his hiding spot. The man stumbled past, one hand shielding his eyes and the other holding his scarf around his lower face.

Brody pounced.

He dove at the man, caught him around the waist and tackled him to the ground. The guy let out a sharp yelp and tried to twist away, but it was too late. Brody had him facedown, one knee shoved in the small of his back and his hands behind him before he could draw breath to scream.

He jerked the man’s pinned hands upward, hard. “Who are you and what are you doing?” he growled, giving a quick visual sweep. His Arabic sucked, but he knew at least that much. The guy was young, had only a pistol sticking out of the back of his waistband. Brody wrenched it from him.

“A-Akram,” the man responded, frozen.

Didn’t ring a bell. Brody reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out some plastic flex cuffs, secured the prisoner’s hands, then rolled the guy over. He flinched as Brody leaned over him, getting right in his face to cut the wind and get a better look at him.

“Who are you?” he repeated, fisting a handful of dark hair. He didn’t fucking have time for this bullshit. Already he could hear two of his guys opening up on targets below, and the crack of AKs returning fire.

The man’s brown eyes widened until the whites showed all around. They darted to the U.S. flag on Brody’s shoulder, then up to his face. “You American. I help you!”

Nice try.
“I don’t need your help.”

Akram shook his head. Or tried to, wincing when Brody didn’t let up on his grip. “No, I help you. I tell your leader about prisoners.” He nodded quickly, his expression equal parts sincere and fearful.

Brody reached up one hand and tapped his earpiece, contacting the operations center. “I got a guy here named Akram who says he gave us the location of the hostages. This true?” Whether it was or not, Brody wasn’t letting him go.

“Stand by,” DeLuca answered.

No problem
, Brody thought sardonically.
I’ll just hang out here with my new pal, getting my ass sandblasted and waiting for the guys down in the valley to come after us.

A couple minutes later, DeLuca came back on. “That’s affirm, Colebrook. Apparently he’s our mystery informant. Bring him back here with the others so we can question him.”

Wow. Okay then. “Roger that.”

Still not trusting the guy, Brody hauled him to his feet and began half-dragging, half-frog-marching him back to where he’d left his spotter. He kept glancing down into the valley, a tingling at the back of his neck telling him they needed to get the hell out of here,
now
.

His spotter, Napoli, was gawking at them when they reached him.

“Don’t ask,” Brody muttered, shoving Akram down in front of him and raising his binos to check the valley. “How long do we have?” he asked.

“Couple minutes, maybe,” Napoli said. “The guys are picking them off one by one, but we can’t get them all.”

Ah, shit.
Time’s up.
He got on the radio to the Blackhawk pilots again. The first was already moving to the new coordinates. The second was still a few minutes out. Their gunship air support…well, he had no idea how far away that was, or if it was even coming for sure.

“Tango-Romeo, be advised,” he said, using Tuck’s operating initials, “we’ve got a situation here.” He detailed it as rapidly as possible, then ordered his team to begin moving toward the LZ. “We hold them off until everyone is loaded aboard those birds, understand?”

His guys all responded in the affirmative. Brody turned to Napoli. “Let’s go.” He hauled Akram to his feet again and scrambled over the lip of the ridge. Dragging the prisoner over it, he straightened and turned to run.

A hot, bright pain sizzled through the outside of his left thigh, stealing his breath.

He went down hard, landing face-first in the dirt. “God
dammit
,” he snarled, clapping a hand over the wound as he struggled to get up onto an elbow. Another round plowed into the ground inches in front of him, spraying him with rock and grit.

Napoli started to come back for him, but Brody waved him off. “Take Akram,” he shouted, the pain a burning fire in his leg as he brought his rifle around to aim at the men rushing up the hill toward them. He fired at the closest target he could find, watched the man fall.

When he glanced up through the swirling sand he saw the outline of the Blackhawk moving in to attempt a landing at the new LZ and felt a measure of relief. They just might make it out of here after all.

Blood continued to pump out of his thigh, wet and sticky against his palm. His leg wasn’t bent at a weird angle. Maybe the femur was still intact.

He fought the wave of fear gathering at the edge of his consciousness. Thoughts of Wyatt flashed through his mind, the IED blast. The endless surgeries that hadn’t saved his leg.

I can’t lose my leg.
He’d seen what it had done to his brother. The way it had transformed him, inside as well as out.

He gave himself a mental shake, pushing the frightening thoughts aside. His leg was still attached and it didn’t matter a damn anyway if he got killed out here.

No
, he ordered himself sternly. His family had gone through too much already. There was no way he was going to add to their pain by getting killed. He was too exposed though. If he could just make it to one of the helos, maybe he’d make it out alive too.

But to do that he had to clear off some of the enemy rushing toward him.

Fighting through the haze of pain, he rolled to his belly and brought his weapon up, put his eye to the scope and got back to work.

Hunkered down inside the darkened building they’d just cleared, Adam shifted Summer in his lap and made sure his rifle was within easy reach. She was still trembling pretty hard but the worst of the shaking had stopped a couple minutes ago. At least where they were the smoke wasn’t too bad.

He glanced up at Tuck, who stood next to the doorway, peering out through the small gap between the edge of the door and the jamb. “What’s the ETA on the second helo?” he asked.

“Six minutes,” Tuck replied, then put his hand to his ear. “Go ahead,” he said to whoever it was on the other end of the comm. Probably Colebrook. “Copy that.” He paused to look back at all of them. “Sniper team’s gonna give us cover, but it’s gonna be tight and the storm’s worse.” He met Adam’s gaze. “You ready?”

Adam nodded once. “Yes.” He was so fucking ready to get Summer out of here and onto one of the birds. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around her face to shield it from the stinging sand. Then, lifting her across his shoulders, he clamped one hand on the back of her thigh and gripped his rifle with the other.

“Hostages go first,” Tuck said. “We’ll cover Blackwell, Vance and Cruzie, then follow. Go.” He pulled the door open and stepped outside into the comparatively bright light.

“Keep your head down and your eyes shut,” Adam said to Summer. A scarf wasn’t going to protect her face completely but it was the best he could do at the moment.

“Okay,” she answered in a small voice, her hands clenching around fistfuls of his uniform.

Adam raced out the door and past Tuck. The wind was strong enough that he had to lean into it, and yeah, the visibility was the shits because of all the sand swirling around.

He could just make out the shape of the Blackhawk descending at the new LZ, headed straight for it while gunfire rang out to his right and behind him. He could see the sniper team moving into defensive positions close to the LZ.

And he spotted someone struggling to his feet, then take a lurching step forward before falling.

Adam recognized him instantly, and knew what had happened.

Shit.
“Colebrook’s hit,” he announced to the others. He wasn’t stopping though, not until he had Summer safely aboard the helo. Two of Colebrook’s guys were already racing toward him as Adam ran for the first Blackhawk.

“I got him.” Bauer veered away and pounded toward the injured sniper.

He grabbed Colebrook, tossed him over his shoulders and ran with Adam the rest of the way to the waiting helo. Cruz had the other surviving hostage with him, one hand clamped around the guy’s upper arm. Vance carried the third hostage’s remains in a body bag.

Cruz and the surviving male hostage got there first. The instant the man was safely inside the helo, Cruzie turned around and leveled the barrel of his weapon at the approaching enemy force. Vance reached it next, climbing inside to unload his burden and then popped back out to add more firepower to Cruzie’s efforts.

Adam was breathing hard by the time he got Summer to the Blackhawk’s open door. He set a hand on the deck and jumped inside, carrying her as far toward the tail as possible before setting her down and crouching next to her. She’d taken off the scarf. He took her face between his hands, anxiously scanned it. Her skin was smudged with soot and her eyes had that glassy look that told him she was well on her way to going into shock, but he couldn’t see any visible injuries.

“You all right?” he asked. “You hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head almost mechanically and wrapped her arms around herself. “No.”

Satisfied that she was mostly okay physically, Adam pulled her to his chest and slid his arms around her back to warm her. Outside he could hear the sound of gunfire over the noise of the engines, the pitch telling him it was his teammates.

One of the Jordanian crewmembers handed him a blanket. He wrapped Summer in it and looked back over his shoulder just in time to see Bauer lever Colebrook inside. The sniper’s expression was tight with pain, one hand pressed to the outside of his left thigh where blood soaked through his pants.

Bauer looked at Adam. “More of those bastards are closing in,” he said grimly. “I need to get back out there. You got him?” he shouted over all the noise.

He nodded. “Got him.” Releasing Summer for the moment, he reached across and helped drag Colebrook away from the open door, providing him with at least the protection of the helo’s body. Not much, but better than nothing.

“I’m okay,” Colebrook insisted, face pale and chalky as he waved Adam off with one hand and pressed a dressing to his wounded leg with the other. “Go clear those assholes off that ridge.”

With pleasure.
He would do whatever it took to make sure he got Summer out of here safely.

Adam ripped a pouch on his tactical vest open and came up with a fresh pressure dressing for him, then looked back at Summer. Her face was pasty white, her freckles standing out in sharp relief and her eyes were glassy as she stared back at him.

He wanted to stay right here and hold her until this was all over but he couldn’t and it made him crazy. But God, he couldn’t leave her without giving her some sort of assurance and comfort.

He slid a hand around the back of her neck, leaned in so she’d hear him clearly over the noise. “Everything’s gonna be okay, doll, but I’ve gotta go help the guys secure the LZ. Stay right here and keep warm. I’m gonna get Schroder in here, then I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He paused, made sure she was focused on him, that she was registering every word. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened with a fear that threatened to break his heart in two and she grabbed hold of his wrist, her mouth opening as if she would argue. But he didn’t have time because his team needed him and the only way they were getting out of here was if they secured the LZ.

Hating to leave but having no choice, he pulled free and turned for the open door. Weapon to his shoulder, he hopped out of the helo.

Cruzie was on one knee close to the helo’s tail and Vance had moved forward a dozen yards or so toward the ridge. Tuck and Evers were both on one knee close to him. Adam scanned around for Schroder, found the team medic off to the left with Bauer.

Not wanting to distract anyone with chatter over the comms at a time like this, Adam raced for him. His teammates fired controlled bursts at the enemy fighters as the sniper team withdrew and raced up the hill for the LZ.

Adam kept his head down, ran at a crouch over to Schroder and set a hand on the former PJ’s shoulder. “Colebrook’s on board the helo. You need to look at him and then Summer.” He had to keep her and everyone safe, help clear these bastards away until the team was in the air.

Schroder nodded once, his gaze glued to the fighters converging on them from the distant ridge. “Cover me.”

Adam released his shoulder and dropped to one knee. “You know it. Go.” As soon as Schroder took off, Adam moved into his spot.