Page 3 of Danger Close
Van rolled his eyes.“He’s delirious.He’s obviously dying.”
Ricky grinned even more.“I’m not dying.”
Bateman looked skeptical.“You’re still smiling.That’s a bad sign.”
Marsh chuckled.“You’ll live.But you’ll be a pain in the ass about it.”
Ricky closed his eyes for a second, letting the rain cool his burning skin.“Saw a farmhouse up the road.Not much to look at, small.Dry.Defensible.We can move there.”
Bateman leaned back, arms crossed, still scowling.“You don’t get to give orders when you’re shot.”
Ricky cracked one eye open and looked up at his superior officer.“Wanna carry me this time?”
Bateman grinned.“Touché.”
The team regrouped, weapons raised, eyes sharp.
They had ground to cover, a wounded man, and a hell of a lot of answers still out there.
But for now, they had each other.
Chapter One
Bateman stood in theshadowed doorway of the gym, arms crossed, watching the heavy bag swing under punishing blows.
Ricky Bowen didn’t look angry.
He looked focused—brutally so.
His knuckles were already red, the wraps soaked through, sweat dripping from his shoulders like rainfall as he pounded the bag with mechanical precision.Jab, cross, hook.Jab, hook, hook.His rhythm never broke.Never slowed.Just kept hammering, each impact echoing like a body hitting concrete.
Bateman watched the way Ricky’s jaw clenched, the way his breath caught between combinations.The tight set of his shoulders.The hollow silence between his grunts of effort.No music played.No earbuds.Just fists and breath and pain.
He was going to hurt for this later.
Bateman knew that better than most.The shoulder Ricky had taken a round through that time in Chechnya still didn’t have the full range of motion.He was compensating.Driving power through the hips to make up for what his upper body had lost.And if he didn’t pull something now, it would flare up during a climb, a sprint, a crawl.
