Page 89 of Heart of Danger
She was here.
Christ!Four nearly dead men and three men to carry them. Nick and Jon were already stripping a bed to fashion a travois to be carried by two men, each also carrying a man. It was going to be hard and they were going to be sitting ducks, but there was no question of leaving their teammates behind. They weren’t going to die like animals in a lab.
Catherine stood for a second with a frown on her face, clearly puzzling something out, and Mac nearly dropped to his knees in a burst of love for her. Any other woman in the world would be screaming in panic or rushing around using up her energy in useless things but not his woman. No, she was thinking.
“Mac,” she said urgently. “We need to get these three men to an exit point. Can the three of you carry these men about five hundred yards?”
“Sure. Tell us where the exit point is and we’ll make it. Get out fast. We went over the sentry positions in our drills. If you go out the east side you should be okay. We’ll rendezvous at the helo. If we don’t make it, there’s a kit with survival equipment next to the pilot’s seat. It has ten thousand dollars in cash, take it and go?—”
She was shocked, mouth open, eyes wide. Then she looked angry as her eyes narrowed. “You want me toleaveyou? Now? I can’t believe you said that. Back home you’re paying for that comment, Thomas McEnroe, and you’ll regret it. Nick, Jon, since neither of you appear to be boneheads, follow me.”
They headed out as fast as they could, Mac carrying the Colonel over his shoulder and holding onto one side of the blanket with Lundquist in it while Jon held onto the other, Romero over on his shoulder. Nick had Pelton over his shoulder and was checking his screen.
They were following Catherine blindly. After her outburst she hadn’t looked at him. Even her back, beautiful as it was, looked mad.
“Rule number one, meathead,” Jon muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Don’t piss off your ladylove.”
“How the fuck would you know about ladyloves,” Mac answered. “Your record is four nights in a row.”
He’d make it up to her, if they survived. They weren’t able to go at a dead run and carrying the men meant they couldn’t reduce their profile. The men they were rescuing didn’t have camouflage body armor. They’d be big fat targets out there. And the helo was rated for five people not eight. She might not lift off.
They were not making good time. Mac estimated they were a good fifteen minutes out from the helo, not counting the fact that they would have to blast their way through the microwave barrier.
A lot of shit could happen in fifteen minutes plus. A lot of fatal shit.
Mac tried to go to that cold place inside himself that was his fortress in battle. He was used to taking himself right out of the equation, as if he were a Cylon, a robot. A mass of flesh and bones, yes, but a compendium of battle strategies, lines of fire, the deadly ballet of battle.
He couldn’t find that place, however frantically he looked for it. He was team leader and now not only Nick and Jon depended on his cold-blooded ability to strategize, but also the Colonel, Lundquist, Romero and Pelton. Not to mention Catherine. If they were going to get out of this alive, he had to become a soldier, not a man.
But someone who reminded him every step of the way that he was a man, with a man’s weaknesses, was running ahead of him. Catherine.
She was messing with his head. She was messing with his ability to distance himself from the situation and think coldly and clearly.
On a mission, in a fight, Mac did everything he could to protect his men but, always, the mission came first. They were all soldiers, they all knew the price to pay and they all accepted it. Some of them might not make it to home base but as long as the mission was successful, it was acceptable.
Losing Catherine was not acceptable. Not an option.
Fear for her fried his circuits, made him slow. He was operating under a pressure so intense it almost made him crack wide open. Loving Catherine made him a better man but a worse soldier and she needed the soldier now, not the man.
“Up ahead!” Catherine turned, gasping, and Mac saw the fear on her face and another huge pulse of love ran through him. She was terrified but she was working through it. Not slowing them down, not at all. Helping them with every fiber of her being, notwithstanding the fear.
This woman deserved his best. He was going to see her through this because she was the most important mission of his life.
“What, honey?”
There were almost at an intersection. Catherine had stopped, small fist raised and they all stopped too. She was winded, narrow chest billowing in and out, but she ignored that, turning to Nick. “Anyone in the corridor to the right?” she gasped.
The ceiling rippled. Nick was turning what was left of his Antz to the right.
“Not getting a completely clear picture,” he murmured. “But the corridor is empty. Except for a piece of machinery.”
She grabbed the screen, smiled, and gave a little panting whoop, reached up and kissed Mac on the mouth. Mac smiled back, because he simply couldn’t not smile at Catherine and because he was forgiven.
“You can’t see that from here but it’s an electric cart. If you’re sure the coast is clear, we can load Ward and the other men on it and if we time things right, we can make a run to the helo on it.”
Nick gave a whoop, completely un-Nick-like, leaned over and kissed Catherine. A big loud smack on the mouth.
“Hey!” Mac frowned.
