Page 67 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

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. “Goddammit,” 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.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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.

---