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Mac darted in beside him, her hair already dripping as she kneeled in the mud. “I didn’t find anything. No tracks, no debris trail.”
“They’ve got to be close. No way Zain would just keep driving.” Foster rubbed his knuckles along Zain’s sternum like he’d seen Chase do in the field, relaxing a bit when his buddy bolted awake, struggling against the belt as he blinked half a dozen times, his breath sounding more labored than normal. “Easy, Zain. You’re still in the truck.”
Zain turned his head, growling when it must have set off a chain reaction of pain. “Chase!”
“Haven’t found him yet. Let’s get you?—”
“No. No time. The river…” He shouted as he tried to undo his seatbelt.
“Jesus, stop moving before you do more damage. Now, what’s this about a river?”
Zain grunted out a few breaths, definitely sounding as if he wasn’t sucking in enough air. “On the other side of the road. Greer’s Bronco suddenly shot up and flew off, then rolled out of sight. My truck was tumbling the other way a moment later. But I know the terrain along here — been studying it just in case — and there’s nothing but raging rivers on both sides of this stretch. So, stop standing there and go!”
“I’ll get Zain out then meet up with you two.” Kash waved off Foster’s huff. “Nyx will let me know if there’s a threat. You need Mac to have your six. Go. We’ll join you.”
Foster stood, staring directly at Kash. “Do not make me regret leaving you both here.”
“Not a chance. Now go save Chase and Greer.”
Chapter Seven
Mac was on her feet as Foster stared at Kash for a few more seconds, having what she swore was another one of their unspoken conversations before Foster grunted, then took off. Mac raced behind him, shadowing his every move. Still scanning the area in case that danger Zain had mentioned jumped out at them.
Foster stopped to clear the road then darted across and down the slight hill on the other side. He slipped a few times on the wet gravel, catching his balance before he’d actually fallen as he picked his way along the rocky ground, stopping at the edge of a near identical gully. White water churned through the narrow river, the strong current carrying branches and other debris along the winding path.
Mac shouldered up beside him, searching the surface for any sign of Greer’s Bronco. She paused at what looked like twin ruts farther up the bank, though with all the rain and mist it was impossible to tell what had made them. She took a step closer, inhaling when she spotted what looked like the top half of a vehicle, the white color blending in with the raging water. “Beckett!”
That’s all she managed past the lump in her throat — the fear that maybe they’d wasted what little time Chase and Greer had. That all they’d find was the sum of their failures.
Mackenzie didn’t wait for Beckett to follow her outstretched arm, she just took off running, jumping over downed logs and thorny bushes. A few branches clawed at her pants, but she pushed through, stopping on the bank next to the Ford.
The roof was caved inward, a large stump half-buried in the windshield. Chase was slumped against the steering wheel, water already filling the cabin all the way to the dash. Mac couldn’t see Greer through the fogged up window but it was obvious they didn’t have much time before the river swallowed them.
Foster tried the doors, but they wouldn’t budge, everything twisted to the point it would take a spreader to get them open. He banged on the glass, staring at Chase as if he could will the man to reply. “Chase!”
Chase jolted upright, shouting when the movement obviously hurt before glancing around the interior. He blinked, finally nodding at Foster when he banged on the glass again before letting his head tilt backwards. “I hear you.”
Foster glanced at her, mouth pinched tight, eyes wary before focusing on Chase. “We’ll get you out, just hold on.”
Chase mumbled something that sounded like him having nowhere else to go, as the water roared past the vehicle, a thick fog curling in around them.
Mac ran to the rear of the Bronco, pointing at the broken window. “There.”
Foster grunted then hopped into the river, nearly getting swept away when a large log hit the back end a foot from where he was standing. The impact tipped the vehicle forward, the sides grating against the rocky slope as it jerked ahead, then stopped, even lower than before.
Foster climbed onto the bumper, clearing any bits of glass from the frame before trying to wedge himself through. But after a couple minutes, it was obvious he wasn’t going to fit.
He slammed the crowbar against the back, glancing up at her. “I can’t fit. Not with it crushed like this.”
Mac held his gaze. “Bet I can.”
She placed the rifle on the bank and was in the water then up on the bumper a few seconds later. Praying she didn’t send the entire vehicle shooting down the rapids simply by altering the weight.
Foster snagged her wrist, eyes narrowed. His nostrils flaring. “Mackenzie…”
“Not my first rescue.”
“But this is different. You’re not in a chopper and it’s personal.”