Page 39

He tensed, checking the mirrors then angling onto the shoulder. His headlights cut a path through the darkness, outlining the edge of a ravine as the limbs of the bare trees snapped in the wind. His wipers swooshed across the windshield, giving him fleeting views of the foggy landscape.
“What the… Are you okay? Do you need to go back to the hospital? Should I call?—”
She cut him off with that finger over his lips. “Kill the lights.”
He frowned but turned them off. “You’re scaring me.”
She shook her head, leaning in even closer. “There’s someone on the edge of that ravine. I saw their silhouette when you came around that bend.”
He scanned the tree line, frowning. “Are you sure? I don’t see anything.”
“They darted down toward the river as soon as your headlights hit them.”
“Do you think they need help?”
“I think it might be our guy because this is where Greer’s Bronco went off the road.” She looked Foster dead in the eyes. “And he was wearing night vision goggles.”
Mac stared at Foster, noting how his lips pinched tight as he focused on the patch of land they’d left only hours earlier. Where he’d nearly lost his best friend. His eyes narrowed as he pushed out a few rough breaths. A hint of blush colored his cheeks before he simply flipped a switch.
She knew the moment he’d changed from the charming man she was quickly falling for, to the hardened warrior whose loyalty and determination seemed limitless.
This was the Foster Beckett her dad had sent on various missions. Who defied orders if it meant saving a life. Who had risked his own life so his brothers would come home. And she knew, without a doubt, he wasn’t going to simply drive past.
He rolled his right shoulder, grimacing a bit as it obviously pulled on those plates and screws he’d mentioned before he steeled his resolve. Any hint of uncertainty fading away as he turned off the ignition.
He looked over at her, tilting his head as if he was considering what to say. If he should accept the help he knew she’d offer or find a way to insist she stayed in the truck. That maybe he’d only trusted her to have their backs earlier because he’d been worried about Zain — had wanted to get to his buddy as quickly as possible.
Until he simply blew out another rough breath. “Do you prefer a handgun or that rifle?”
The question caught her off-guard, and she stared for a moment before she broke into a broad smile. “What are we talking for the pistol? A Sig like your buddies?”
“It’s our weapon of choice.”
“Then, I’ll stick with the Sauer rifle. I’m assuming you’ve got a forty-five in the back, and that’s a bit more kickback than I’m accustomed to. You’ll be the better shot if it comes down to that.”
“Let’s try to see that it doesn’t but…”
He was out of the truck and at the back in under five seconds. Just like before. Five more seconds, and he had a couple containers pulled to the edge of the flatbed. He rummaged through one, removing two ballistic vests along with a couple flashlights, some extra ammo and two multitools.
Foster handed her the slightly smaller of the two vests. “Put this on.”
“It’s too big.”
“Big beats nothing, though you have a point.” He grabbed another spare hoodie he had in the back. “Put this on first then the vest. It’ll take up a bit of the room. And no, this isn’t up for debate. You want to have my six, then you wear the appropriate protective gear.”
She didn’t argue, just tugged the hoodie over her head. It smelled like pine and cottonwood, and she couldn’t help but wonder how often he changed out his gear. If he still saw the world as a series of endless threats.
Which, of course he did. He’d been in the military for twenty years. That kind of training never went away.
Foster gave her a thorough once-over after she had the vest secured and the rifle in her hands. He pursed his lips again, looking as if he might change his mind before he nodded. “You sure you’re okay with this? We have no idea what we’re up against. If it’s one person or a freaking gang.”
“All the more reason to have backup.”
“Until all hell breaks loose, and you get hit.”
“You’re not going searching alone. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s just someone looking for junk to grab.”
“Right. It’s simply a run-of-the-mill upcycler who’s out in the middle of an apocalyptic storm wearing night vision to search through a bunch of debris for some spare parts.”