Page 44 of D-Day

“Martinez!” Buck growled again as he dragged the pack toward them.

“Get the med kit, you grumpy bastard.”

“I swear I’m going to rope and tie you and kick the shit out of you in the near future.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“Goddammit, Martinez.”

Zorro needed his humor right about now because Buck was about to get some revenge. “I need the antiseptic, a pack of antibiotics, and battle dressing.”

The man did most of his digging by feel. Zorro was always amazed with what they could do when they had to do it. Buck crawled back toward him with the three items. “These them?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Zorro said as a gray shadow seemed to press in on him from all sides. “Give me the antibiotics,” he said, deciding it was a good idea to take them before Buck treated the wound in case Zorro passed out. “Pour the antiseptic on the wound, then slap on the dressing.”

Zorro dry swallowed the tablets in the package, his eyes going to Buck’s. He was struggling to see Zorro’s wound in the gloom while everything was blurred. Zorro took a hard breath, grabbed his wrist, and centered it over the bullet hole. “Pour.”

Buck tipped the bottle and a burning, searing pain blazed across his left side from the edges of the wound to deep inside. His vision blurred, agony making his whole body convulse, and that shadow monster closed in. If he hadn’t been spreadeagled on the ground, he would have collapsed.

Through a roaring in his ears, he heard Buck say, “Come on, partner, you’re tougher than this.”

He caught his breath, fought off the fog, and blinked against the downpour. Geezus, was the sky going to drop all of the rain on them in a span of minutes? Buck splashed him again, the son of a bitch. Zorro started swearing in rapid Spanish.

“I know you’re calling me every name in the Spanish book, but we’re not done yet,” Buck murmured, peering down at Zorro’s exposed waist.

“You’re at the top of my shit list.”

His gaze tried to center on Zorro’s face. “It’s going to get ugly if I have to carry you out of here.”

“You couldn’t carry this goat fuck out of here,” he said, his tone wry, but his voice weak as shit. “If we wait just a tad longer, we could paddle out of here.” Zorro eyed the dressing as Buck did his best to dry Zorro’s skin, every pass bringing that shadow monster back.

Buck looked him straight in the eyes. “I will, amigo, if I have to, and you know it.” He did. Buck was a tough son-of-a-gun, even with a head injury. With those words, the dressing came down on the wound, and this time Zorro saw black as Buck smoothed the edges around the bullet hole.

While he was handling passing out, he heard Buck on the radio. “TOC this is Buck.” He rattled off some coordinates, and Zorro had to wonder how he’d even seen his dive watch through the rain, the gloom, and his double vision. Zorro fought his way back to consciousness, his disappointment sharp at nothing but static from the radio. Were they still out of range or was the rain fucking with the reception?

Suddenly, a gun barrel pressed into his shoulder, and he looked up to find a man’s grim face. Zorro said, “Kaibigan.” But the goat fuck just laughed at him, and Zorro’s stomach dropped. A wave of dizziness washed across the back of his skull, and he fought it, focusing on his breathing, making it deep, making it count, and he held on for Buck, so he wouldn’t be alone. “Looks like you won’t have to carry me out of here, Buck. We’ve got a ride with the fucking NPA.”

Every protective instinctran through D-Day like a primal wolf in a frenzy of protecting what was his, savagely, viciously, with every wild, alpha bone in his body. Her body was warm against his, warm and vulnerable, and she shivered with fear, her scentflooding his senses. Her battered face, split lip, and bruises made him want to make Lando pay, but he had to tamp all that down for the sake of the mission, no matter how much he wanted to kill the fucker.

He lunged at Lando, catching the man totally off guard, and pressed him to the wall. Sticking his face right into the warlord’s, he twisted the fabric of Lando’s shirt until it was bunched tightly in his fist. “No fucking way. She’s mine…every inch of her fucking body. You don’t look at her, you don’t touch her, you don’t fucking breathe on her,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “If you do, I’ll fucking kill you. I don’t share, especially with little assholes who don’t understand what’s good for them.”

Helen backed up as if she was going to run, the terrified look on her face hurt him down to his core. She sobbed softly, then her jaw hardened. He kept his body between Helen and Lando, his peripheral vision also watching that woman who had knocked Helen in the head. She wasn’t just a simple bystander.

D-Day hauled fresh air into his lungs, his rage so intense that his judgment was impaired. He wanted to kill them both, eliminate any threat to Helen, that precious, beautiful soul who had somehow found something in him. It was as if a lifetime of rage had broken loose in him, all of it focused on the greedy, soulless man who held his own country in such disdain that he was willing to take his money while everything around him burned.

“Are we clear?” D-Day roared.

Lando nodded, his eyes still defiant, but he kept them off Helen.

D-Day let him go.

“Fuck her and get out. There will be no more deals between us. NPA paid for six triggers, and that’s what they’ll get. All six.”

His rage accelerating, D-Day moved, and before the last word was out of Lando’s mouth, D-Day hooked his arm around histhroat, whirled him around, and sent him crashing to the floor. His strength fueled by his rage, he hauled the man to his feet, jerked one arm behind his back, and slammed his face into the wall. His jaw clenching in murderous fury, he gave Lando another sharp shove. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? I run this fucking business, and you know it. Don’t make an enemy of me, Lando. You will regret it.”

“Okay, okay, Butler. Back off. I get it. I have something you’ll want. We can talk about it after you calm down. It’s just that those triggers belong to the NPA, and they will kill me if they don’t get what they paid for.”

“Fuck you, Lando. You cover your ass and play it safe. That never got anyone anywhere, mate. But good on ya for offering me something else, and it better be worth my time.” He let Lando go. “You or anyone else comes through that door before I’m done with her, and I’ll shoot to kill.”

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