Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(18)
Author: Catherine Mann

“Over seventy-two hours,” Jose answered, understanding full well those three days would have seemed endless to a hostage.

“Right. But I get that hostages sometimes sit in captivity for months or even years. It was hell thinking of my mama seeing my picture broadcast week after week, wondering if I was still alive…” He shook his head. “I’m damn grateful to know I’ll be Skyping with her by… When? Tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.” If the chopper made it here. Soon, he hoped. He pulled his eyes from Stella and back to Sutton.

“Nice to hear.” The student held an elephant tusk, his thumb tracing carvings along the length.

Jose glanced at the backpack, then at the tusk again. “What did you expect to do with that?”

“I didn’t take this. Stella did.” He set it aside and scratched through his dirty curls. “I think she was planning to use it as a knife. She was a lot smarter in her choices than I was, wasn’t she? Fossil teeth and tusks. If I’d thought like her, I might have been out of there sooner.”

Jose just listened, trying to get a bead on this kid. “She’s a sharp girl. Her big brothers taught her to take care of herself.”

A benign enough answer.

Sutton pulled a small shield out of his backpack and tapped his head lightly. “I was thinking protection, like a bulletproof vest or whacking someone on the head. Not as clever or effective as a tusk or something sharp. Hell, I don’t know what I was thinking. When you’re a kid, you wanna be a cop or firefighter, the hero in a crisis. Real life is a lot more complicated.”

“It always is.” He scooped up a handful of pebbles.

Sutton looked sideways. “I was such a f**king basket case I was pretty much useless. Not Stella though.”

Of course she’d held it together. She was a highly trained Interpol operative who’d managed to send out a coded message that got everyone saved. She’d kept her head in a nightmare situation. And she’d done it all without once revealing her real identity to her captors or to the students she accompanied.

She was so damn amazing she took his breath away.

Jose funneled the pebbles through his fist into his other palm. “Sutton, you can’t beat yourself up over what’s in the past. You’re alive.”

“Not everybody made it out that way. Thing is, I don’t know if I could do any better now. I’m still so scared I could piss myself.”

“No shame in that.” He poured the pebbles back into his other hand.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a superhero.”

Superhero? Crap. Stella had called him that once. Too bad nothing could be further from the truth. “We all have our kryptonite.”

“What’s yours?”

Alcohol. Stella. Yeah, he had two great big weaknesses. He dumped the small stones onto the ground. “Enough sharing. Get some sleep. Your chatter’s distracting me from my job.”

“It’s Stella, isn’t it? She’s yours… but she’s living her dream to be a student abroad?”

He stayed silent. Was the kid digging? More than once he’d hinted that he knew she had a deeper reason for being here. Had her cover been blown?

“She’s smart. Pretty.”

His jaw clamped tight, possessive instincts roaring. Whoa. Wait. Was this kid going somewhere else with his questions? “Do you have a point?”

Sutton shook his head. “Not really. Just wondering what kind of guy lets a woman like her get away.”

Great. Now even the kid was calling him out on his idiocy. As if he didn’t already know. “Prop your ankle on the log. It’ll keep the swelling down.”

Sutton set aside the shield. “Are you dudes SEALs or what?”

“Special Operations involves a number of different branches—SEALs, Rangers, Green Berets, pararescuemen.”

“Which are you?”

“Pararescuemen—sometimes known as pararescue jumpers, PJs.”

“Were you all PJs?”

Nosy little dude. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Do you really need to know?” Was the kid more than a student too? Government agencies kept secrets from each other all the time.

“Point made. Thanks to all those movies and documentaries and books, I’ve heard all about SEALs. Tell me more about these PJs.”

Jose scanned the perimeter, monitoring every shifting branch and shadow, assessing every scratch or crackle. For now, all could be chalked up to nature. “We rescue. Let’s just say we PJs thank God the SEALs are on our side and the SEALs thank God for us when they need someone to haul their asses out.”

“Kinda like ‘you f**k up, we pick up’?”

Sounded like the kid knew a little about the PJs after all. Kid? Sutton was around twenty-two. Jose had had four years of active duty military service under his belt by then.

Jose just stared back, silently, until a rustling from the lean-to pulled his attention off the kid. Rolling to his feet, he landed in a crouch by instinct. Weapon drawn, he scanned the dark.

Stella raised a hand. “Hold on. Just me.”

Jose lowered his gun. “Sorry to have woken you.”

“You didn’t. I’m too wired to sleep long. Once we get out of here, though, I’ll be comatose for days.” Sitting up, she pulled the wrap around her shoulders like a shawl. “PJs don’t like to talk about themselves.”

“Then let’s not,” Jose said, night sounds humming in agreement.

She shoved her thick red braid over her shoulder, sweeping the escaping wisps away. “Most folks have never heard of the pararescuemen. There are only about three hundred and fifty in the world.”

Sutton hooked his arm on his knees, leaning in. “That’s crazy cool. Dude, you should be bragging in bars left and right. Think of the babes you could score.”

Stella scrunched her nose in disdain. “So you’re the kind who pretends to be an astronaut to pick up women?”

Sutton clapped a hand to his chest. “That would be very dishonorable.”

Damn straight.

Stella scooted closer. “Their training takes nearly two years. They do the SEAL survival stuff, assault, protection courses, as well as becoming medics—except for the officer on the team. Anyhow, their focus is on rescue, but they need the insertion and force protection skills to make that happen.”

Jose couldn’t figure out why the hell she was telling all this stuff about PJs, and then it hit him. If she put the focus on his job—more of a known entity—then it took the focus off her real job. She was good. Really good.