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The bastard was using her as a shield.
All his training. All his combat experience. And he couldn’t do a damn thing.
Emilio, Ortega’s sidekick, rounded the helo, laying down cover fire while Juan and Ortega hauled Gia aboard.
Then the bird lifted.
“Got a bead on the rotors.” Zach’s voice was faint, slurred.
“Don’t take the shot.” Caleb slammed his fist into the dirt. “They have Gia. Dammit!”
Defeat, bitter and tasting like ash, coated his throat as he watched the helicopter streak across the sky.
How many times had he sworn she’d be safe?
His vision blurred.
She’d trusted him.
Heavy footsteps pounded the dirt. Danny dropped to one knee beside him. “Bro, you okay? I’m so sorry.” He extended a hand.
Caleb gripped it, let Danny haul him upright.
A grunt tore from his chest.
Jesus.
Getting hit inthe vest felt like taking a sledgehammer to the ribs.
He dropped back to his knees.
But it beat being dead.
“Take Jennie,” he rasped. “Go to my cousin.”
Jennie’s face drained of color. “Zach?”
“I’ll live,” came Zach’s voice through the comms—strained but steady. “Plugged in the shoulder. Think I stopped the leak.”
He coughed, followed by a grunt. “Just need a ride.”
“Go,” Caleb growled. His control hung by a thread.
Danny hesitated, eyes flicking over Caleb like he wanted to argue.
He turned to Jennie. “Come on.”
“My truck’s got four-wheel drive,” Roy called. “I’ll get as close as I can. Ford will help you get Zach to the ridge.”
Danny glanced back at Caleb. “I’ll be back for you.”
Caleb didn’t answer. He stayed where he was, kneeling in the dirt as the others moved out.
The afternoon sun mocked him, bright and clear.
It should be dark. Storming.
To match his heart.