Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(9)
Author: Catherine Mann

Bubbles raced from room to room, cell to cell, and appeared again so fast and silent they could have renamed him Ghost. Just when she’d given up hope, Bubbles came out with his arm hitched around the injured fella—Sutton Harper—steadying him. The tortured student dragged his leg behind, clutching his arm to his stomach. His blond curly hair was plastered to his head with grime, his hiking clothes damp with perspiration. But he was alive.

Jose pressed his finger to his headset, listening, then nodded. “All accounted for. No more waiting. We’ve got to roll if we’re going to make the chopper pickup.”

Sutton limped slower, groaning. “Go without me. Seriously, dude. I’m holding you back and that’s a risk to Stella. You can send someone for me later.”

“No can do.” Bubbles powered on, hauling his patient.

Sutton nodded to Jose and Stella. “Then you two go. Take her and leave.”

Stella shook her head. “We stay together.”

Of course Sutton, an honest to God twenty-two-year-old student, an innocent in all of this, didn’t know her role here and she sure as hell didn’t intend to tell him. Knowing would only put him further at risk if they were unable to escape now. She was able to protect herself. In fact, her job included protecting him.

She turned to Jose. “Help him so we can move faster. I’ll keep up.” She willed herself to stand steely strong in spite of her aching ribs and throbbing shoulder. Exhaustion and hunger gnawed at her. “We don’t have time to argue.”

Hesitating for only a second, a second where his eyes flashed with frustration and urgency, Jose moved forward and hitched his shoulder under Sutton’s other arm. “Let’s roll out.”

Stella ignored her own aches and focused on one foot in front of the other as Jose and his PJ teammate hauled Sutton through the narrow cinder block corridors, stepping over dead guards, ducking out into the courtyard.

Even the weak, last rays of the sun stung her eyes after three days inside in captivity. She blinked away spots. Her foot caught on a root protruding from the cracked earth. She flung out her arms to brace her fall. Her palms slapped the rough bark of a gnarled galool tree.

“Stella?” Jose called back over his shoulder, shooting an arm out.

“I’m good. The light blinded me for a second. Keep going.”

Steady on her feet again, she dashed forward, catching up and keeping pace, running toward the oh-so-distant sound of helicopter blades slicing the air. How far to the helicopter pickup? Asking would only waste precious breath, and even if the chopper was miles away, she wouldn’t slow down. This was an all-out race for their lives. Sure, the guards had been taken down, but reinforcements would be on their way soon. This particular separatist group was large, organized with the support of a powerful warlord.

And damn it, Jose was in the line of fire because of her. Fighting for professionalism was tougher than ever for her now, leaving her edgy, angry.

Scared.

The most dangerous emotion of all as it made them all vulnerable.

She’d selfishly begun this journey seeking information about her mother. Now she knew it was about lots of mothers and children, just as the VP’s wife hoped to highlight in her visit. And while Stella wouldn’t look away from facts about her mother if they came her way, she had a mission to complete.

Was the frenzy and the separatists’ big “plan” all tied into the upcoming visit of the VP’s wife? Her visit here, the causes she stood for, didn’t sit well with many in the region.

And Jose had been drawn into the middle of this hell.

He stopped shy of the gate, adjusting his hold on Sutton. “Bubbles, you crawl over and I’ll hoist him up to you.”

The land mines. Of course. God, how horrifically ironic if she’d lost focus now when she was so close to escape.

Jose looked back at her. “We’re almost home free. Once we’re past the fence, it’s only a couple of minutes to the helicopter pickup.” He cupped her shoulder and squeezed. “Hold tight, Stel, okay?”

For that moment, he was her Jose again, the feel of his hand so familiar her body reacted by instinct, swaying toward him. God, she’d missed him. Even if they weren’t a couple anymore, at least she would have the chance to take back some of the horrible things she’d said to him. And the faster they got away from this place, the sooner she could start on that.

“I’m not even close to giving out. Lead. I’ll follow.” As if to bolster her, the wind carried the sound of the approaching helicopter. No doubt searching for a barren spot of sandy earth to land. This place was such a mix of rain forests and desert with dying trees. Contradictions of lush history and cruel corruption. She’d hoped to help tip the scales in favor of the good. Now she just wanted to stay alive.

The echo of helicopter blades cutting the air whomp, whomp, whomped closer.

Sutton went wild-eyed for a second. From delirium or hope? He broke away from Jose and charged toward the gate.

Right toward the section she’d overheard a guard say was booby-trapped.

Panicking, Stella screamed, “No! Land mines!”

Jose catapulted toward Sutton, whose frenzy had somehow overcome his pain. Jose held the guy’s legs, pinning him as Bubbles climbed back over the fence to help.

Sutton thrashed with a frenetic energy. “Get off me. Get off me now!”

Was he suffering from combat trauma because of their time here in the compound? The student cycled with his feet, hiking boots sending pebbles and rocks spewing across the path.

Onto the land mines.

Ah hell.

She covered her head a second before…

The explosion shook the ground. Ripples concussed the air, slamming her back to the rocky earth. Bubbles flew through the air and landed on his back with an “oof.”

And Jose? Oh God, where was he? She squinted, peering through the dust poofing upward. A shape took form a hand’s reach away, familiar, rangy, and masculine. Alive and already rolling to his feet again. The downed fenced lay just at their feet, only inches shy of crushing them.

Relief sang through her as loud as the ringing in her ears. She cradled her head in her hands and fought vertigo. She swallowed hard, trying to clear the pressure crackling, popping.

Damn it. She sat up straighter, pushing through the pain to listen.

Gunfire echoed in the distance—backup for them or the separatists?

Jose pressed his hand to his headset. Listening? “No more time. The chopper has to bail—and so do we.” His face went dark as he tapped the earpiece. “I’m losing contact. Damn it.”