Page 64 of Brawler
For a moment, there was no gunfire, no jungle, no pain dragging at his side. Just her.
When he pulled back, her forehead rested against his, her whisper breaking him wide open. “I don’t care about anything else. Just you.”
The world tilted again, but not from pain this time.
Flash stumbled up through the churned mud and shredded brush, and Brawler’s gut clenched at the sight of him. Two and a half days, Christ, that was all it had been. But he looked like he’d been dragged through hell and left there too long.
His skin was pale beneath the grime, lips chalky, eyes hollowed into dark pits like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Sweatstreaked down his temple, hair plastered and matted, his uniform hanging looser than it had when they’d dropped. His hands trembled faintly as he lowered his rifle, and the set of his jaw was tight with barely leashed panic. He blinked too slowly, like even his eyes struggled to obey, and his gaze kept flicking into the trees as if he saw things no one else did.
The cocky spark that usually lived in him was gone. In its place was something gaunt, haunted, raw.
For a heartbeat, Brawler saw not his brother-in-arms but a man unraveling before his eyes. The jungle hadn’t just chewed him up. It had stripped him to bone and nerve.
Flash’s gaze snagged on the two of them, Brawler and Emily still tangled on the ground, and for a moment some of that hollow mask cracked. Relief, disbelief, maybe even a flicker of longing cut through, but it was thin as paper, fragile as breath.
“What the hell happened in that jungle between you two?” he rasped, voice thin with exhaustion.
Brawler met Emily’s eyes. Shrugged. “Some yelling. Some running. Some hiding. Some kissing. And?—”
“Not another nut shot,” Easy cut in with a wince.
Brawler gave a raw laugh that jarred his ribs. “She saved my fucking life.”
Silence dropped over the team.
Then Flash extended his fist to Emily, weary but sincere. “Fucking pixie power on steroids.”
She bumped his knuckles with her small one, a soft smile cutting through the dirt and tears. “And a little Neanderthal,” she whispered.
Brawler pulled her closer, ignoring the smirks and the stares. For once, he didn’t give a damn what they thought. She was alive. He was alive. That was enough.
Twister was suddenly there, dropping to his knees beside them, hands already moving. “Let me see, Brawler.”
“It’s nothing,” he ground out, still holding Emily against him.
“Bullshit.” Twister shoved at his vest, fingers probing low along his side until Brawler hissed through his teeth. “Thought so.” He pulled the sealed Velcro apart, studied the slug caught in the plate. “Looks like the bullet fragmented, sheared off, and caught your thigh.”
He pulled a pressure bandage from his kit, cleaned and wrapped with quick, practiced motions. Brawler clenched his jaw, refusing to flinch. Emily hovered, her hand still clamped around his wrist like she could hold him to this earth by sheer force.
“There.” Twister sat back. “You’ll live. You’ll bitch about it, but you’ll live.”
Brawler muttered something obscene, but he squeezed Emily’s hand before letting go. His gaze swept the clearing, tallying men, ammo, direction of retreat. Back to business, even if his ribs burned.
“LT,” he called, and Tex strode up, expression cut from stone.
Brawler looked at Emily, and she nodded once. “I caught footage of your UAV and the ambush of your Marines.” She took a hard breath as murmurs cut through his brothers.
Brawler continued. “She noted that Sombra and her cubs deviated. She’s freaking brilliant. That gave her the clue. She also found a fragment of the drone.”
Emily swallowed hard. Her hands fumbled at the straps of Brawler’s pack. She pulled it open, then dragged out everything he’d taken, cradling it a second longer than necessary, then held it out to Tex. Her eyes shone but her voice was steady. “He confiscated my research. Notes. Data cards. Laptop. All of it…because of national security and this classified mission.” Her voice cracked. “Take it.”
The silence that followed was heavier than gunfire. Even the cicadas seemed to hush.
Tex accepted everything without a word, turning and carefully stuffing it into his ruck. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “I’ll get this where it needs to go.”
Brawler’s jaw locked, a muscle ticking hard. He could feel her pain like it was his own, sharp and gutting. She’d just handed over the one thing she’d bled for, sweated for, lived for. She’d done it for him, for them. Her voice cracked again as she blinked rapidly. “I’m aware that I can’t write any of this, and I want you to know that your secret is safe with me. I’ll give up my doctorate to keep the US safe, and you guys…there’s no contest.”
“Shoot! I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch.” Every one of the team shifted as Tex’s voice cut the air. Their CO was pissed. “So, our coordinates are wrong,” Tex ground out. “Fucking wild goose chase. Someone’s going to get an earful when I get TOC on the SAT.”
