Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(60)
Author: Catherine Mann

Rachel didn’t even respond. Words would be trite, and he wasn’t really with her right now. His mind was clearly in another time and place.

“Things—missions—were tougher to cope with after he was gone. Rocky didn’t have any formal training, but he sure helped a bunch of worn out rangers get through the day.”

She’d heard about the horrors that soldiers faced, as they poured out their stories while holding on to any number of dogs. For some reason, rescued dogs seemed to have a special affinity for the job. Shared pain, perhaps? A wounded vet tapped into that belief in second chances.

And above all, dogs didn’t judge.

Liam’s hand slid from the puppy. “I probably could have used this little mutt back in the day, but I’m getting out now.”

“How does the team feel about that?” How did she feel about that? She didn’t know.

“It’s not like we’re guaranteed to work together forever anyway. Already one of our guys has transferred up to a training position in Panama City. Hugh Franco—you should remember him from the Bahamas.”

“Hmmm…” She feathered her fingers over his furrowed forehead. “You’re not happy about this decision.”

He clasped her arm and kissed her wrist before setting it to rest on his chest. “The military has been my life, at the expense of my personal relationships. The time has come to make a change.”

Nerves buzzed in her stomach. Could he be talking about the two of them? Except truth be told, she wasn’t sure she could envision him hanging up his uniform. “I thought you were against relationships because of your ex-wives and childhood. But now you’re saying it’s because of your job too.”

“Maybe it’s all of the above. Or maybe now that I’m actually working through it, now that I’m ready to retire, I’m reconsidering my stance on relationships.”

This was moving fast. Too fast? She was only getting used to the idea of sleeping together, maybe going out on a date where no cop showed up with handcuffs, and now he was talking about the future? “Don’t you think we need to get through the present first? Conversations like this should be saved for times when we’re not hyped on adrenaline.”

“You think I’m just letting adrenaline do the thinking for me? After you’ve worked a particularly tough SAR mission, what was your first instinct? To propose to someone?”

Propose? Nerves turned to all-out panic. “Um, I usually took a hot bath and cried my eyes out.” She kissed his nose, then stroked lower in hopes of distracting him. The sex part they could handle without messing up. “You don’t look much like the bubble bath and cry type.”

He covered her roving hand. “And I’m also not the type to jump into bed without thinking. I’m seasoned in my job, just as you are. I know the difference between adrenaline and reality.”

She wasn’t ready for deep conversations, especially not now. Would he press the issue though?

“Are you saying you object to having sex with me unless I agree right here and now to marry you?”

He held her eyes as steadily as he held her hand. Then his eyes slid lower, his palm guiding her hand downward as well. “I’m willing to table the discussion temporarily in the interest of not disturbing folks sleeping in the next room.”

“Then we’ll need to be very, very quiet.” Angling her mouth over his, she kissed him, touched, and yes, God help her, even loved him.

***

Two hours later, Liam slid from bed, careful to keep the sheet draped over Rachel’s naked body. He snagged his jeans off the cane rocker and tugged them on again. Stepping over Disco, asleep on the braid rug, Liam leaned against the window. Trees bent and twisted in the wind in a shadowy kung fu kind of display where arms and legs periodically snapped off.

A whimper drew his attention down to Fang. The puppy nosed his hand and probably needed to be let out. Hopefully the rain would let up soon. He scratched the dog’s nose and looked outside again. He could feel himself zoning out with each snap of lightning and thunder that reminded him too much of past missions, until he settled in on the one that had changed his life forever. The mission in the earthquake-ravaged Bahamas, when he’d met Rachel…

He lurched as the ground shook under his feet. He grabbed the tractor beside him for support. Debris shifted below his feet, rattling all the way to his teeth. Rescue workers scrambled down the piles, carrying the male victim he’d just stabilized and extricated—a businessman who’d been trapped in his office chair.

Frantic wails filled the air from family members who’d been digging with shovels, even hands, in search of loved ones. A German shepherd, Zorro, jockeyed for balance on top of a shifting concrete slab.

He had to get off this oscillating pyramid of debris. Now.

His pulse ramped with adrenaline. Splaying his arms for balance, he tested for firmer ground. The structural-triage report on this site had sucked, but Hugh had been ready to tunnel in once Zorro barked a live find.

He looked left fast to check on team member Wade Rocha. Combat boots planted, Rocha balanced with the feed line tight in his grip… the other end attached to Hugh Franco somewhere underneath the trembling hell.

Shit. Franco. Stuck below with his victim.

And just that fast, the earth steadied.

The demolished wasteland around him went eerily quiet. Sweat and filth plastered his uniform to his body, his heart hammering in his ears. Relief workers stood stock-still as if the world has stopped. But spirals of smoke affirmed the world hadn’t ended, just paused to catch a breath.

He exhaled hard. Adrenaline stung his veins. The tremor hadn’t been an earthquake, just another aftershock. Four so far today. Nerves were ragged, especially with the locals.

His headset blazed to life again with a frenzy of orders, questions, and curses from command center, along with check-ins from others on his team—Rocha, Cuervo, Data, Bubbles—spread out at other potential rescues in the sector. But the most important voice was conspicuously missing.

Hugh Franco.

Dread knotted his gut. Liam had lived through hell on earth before, but it was always worse when his men’s lives were on the line. They were his family, no question. As his three ex-wives would attest, he was married to the job.

“Franco? Franco?” Liam shouted into the mic. “Report in, damn it.”

His headset continued to sputter, some voices coming through piecemeal. None of them Hugh Franco.

Crappy headset… Liam’s hands fisted.