Cover Me (Elite Force #1)(17)
Author: Catherine Mann

“Sorry.” Her breath caressed his neck. “It’s flatland ahead and nothing that I know of back the way we came.”

He needed to decide fast. Wait until the other guy ran out of bullets. Or shoot back. The flat terrain ahead of them that appeared so starkly majestic at other times looked damn barren, open, and dangerous right now, empty except for the crouching gunman.

And a tiny speck on the horizon.

His heart rate ramped. A chopper. His. Theirs.

The rotors growled louder, closer, until the gunman’s head popped up. He bolted out and tore off running, long strides lumbering through the snow too fast and far away to catch even if he could, which he couldn’t—not with Sunny to look after.

Wade jumped to his feet, dragging Sunny up with him. Ignoring the blazing pain from his shoulder. “We need to book it.”

Still, he kept his eyes glued to the guy even while racing to the open area. The beacon in his boot would direct the helicopter even without radio contact. Rotor wash stirred up a hurricane of snow around them.

“My dog!” she screamed. “Chewie!”

Chewie leaped from behind a tree, loping across the ice toward them.

“We won’t leave him,” he shouted back.

The chopper engine grew louder, the winds swirling harder. The helicopter sprayed bullets into snow near the deputy. The rifle fire stopped abruptly. A curse whispered on the wind as the guy bolted to his feet and sprinted away. Part of Wade burned to chase the bastard down and pound the shit out of him. But getting Sunny the hell out of here had to take priority. They would deal with the gunman later.

Wade grabbed her hand and ran harder, trudging through the snow toward the clearing. The helicopter hovered overhead. He pumped his hand, signaling for them to drop a line, which was faster than waiting around for a landing.

The cable descended with a treble hook seat rather than a basket. Wade hefted Sunny onto the seat and strapped her in before she could ask for help. Much like his mom, who had found it faster to do something herself than to explain. Now his mother could barely feed herself because of her battlefield injuries.

Thoughts of how he hadn’t been there to help those closest to him threatened to rattle his focus, and he of all people knew how important attention to detail was in his job. Wade hooked himself to the same cable, facing Sunny. He grabbed the dog by the collar and hauled him into his lap, arms around the furry beast.

The cable yanked, went taut.

He looked down, the ground spinning below but clear enough to see the gunman scrambling to take cover near a snowmobile. Wade hooked his arms tighter around the dog, his grip slipping, slick.

Slick with blood.

***

Sunny huddled in a blanket in the belly of the helicopter while some guy in cammies pulled off her boots and rubbed her feet back to life. Her frostbitten skin flamed with returning sensation as she sipped the lukewarm cocoa someone else had thrust in her hands.

Still, her teeth chattered in the aftermath of their ordeal, the cold—being shot at. The sheriff’s deputy had raced away on a snow machine. So far as she knew, there wasn’t anything they could do to catch him, and she doubted he would be moseying into work, not since he must have seen them hauled up into the military chopper.

Her hand fell to rest on her dog’s head, taking reassurance in his presence. Chewie stayed tight against her side with a blanket draped over his back, covering all that gooey mud she’d only briefly seen on his side before they’d hauled her in.

She’d never ridden in a helicopter before. She had vague memories of riding in a plane before her parents moved to the Aleutian Islands, but that had been so long ago and perceived in a child’s mind as a smooth bus ride through the clouds.

This… This was loud, musty—and invigorating. The rotors overhead roared as they cut the air.

And the men.

A half dozen men in military survival gear packed the back of the aircraft. They appeared to all know each other. He’d said he was a pararescueman—a PJ—for the Air Force. Could this motley crew be his team?

An odd assortment. Not quite what she would have expected. They had a ragtag quality until you looked closer and caught the laser-sharp eyes, the obvious strength and agility. Still, different… She squinted in the shadowy confines for a better look at each of the men, people who could well decide the future of her family. But nobody wore a blazing red sign blinking “Weakest Link.”

Wade shouted over the roar of the engine. “Mark the spot. There are two dead bodies down there.”

“Say again?” The oldest of the group leaned forward, his face hardening.

“Two bodies. Under the ice.”

Sunny wrapped the blanket tighter around her as images of Madison and Ted’s waxy death masks marched through her brain.

The older man, who seemed to be in charge, swept a hand over his face before continuing, “There’s nothing we can do for them now except find their families and make sure they get a decent burial.”

“Appears they were murdered.”

“Damn. Okay, location noted. But we need to get you patched up first.” The guy waved over a lumbering hulk of a guy. “Franco, you got this?”

“Roger that, Major,” Franco answered, peeling off gloves and cracking open a first aid kit more tricked out than anything she kept at the gym. “Cuervo, could you rig me some light?”

A guy wearing a name tag that said Jose James leaped to his feet, and suddenly a spotlight clicked on, clamped to one of the pipes running along the side. The blazing illumination pointed at Wade revealed…

Oh God.

She saw the dark stain on the shoulder of his parka. She gasped, horrified. She reached out to touch his knee, surprised at how automatic her response was. But they had bonded on that mountain, no doubt. Wade had saved her butt all too thoroughly for her to pretend she didn’t care what happened to him now.

Although what exactly had happened, she didn’t know, and clearly there were others here better equipped to tend his injury. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Her mind raced back to the dark ooze she’d seen on him and Chewie and just assumed it was mud. Guilt pinched. She’d been so busy thinking of her own survival she hadn’t even noticed.

She yanked the blanket off her dog and frantically searched through his fur, checking him over for any sign of injury. Chewie pawed her hand and tried to shove his nose into her drink. Finally, satisfied there was nothing she could detect, she shifted her attention back to Wade.

Across the helicopter, Franco snapped on gloves, setting out what looked to be antiseptic, clamps… and she couldn’t tell what else, because her stomach started roiling. She wasn’t the queasy sort. It had to be the adrenaline dump on top of her exhausted body, but she couldn’t imagine going to sleep now.