Page 80

The machine shook, the engine chugging a couple times as the aircraft dropped a few feet. Foster held on, working the throttle. Using the wind and the drafts to give him a boost when the fields appeared in front of him. Trees surrounded the open space, an empty parking lot running down the left side.
He lined up the pavement, chancing it would be a safer bet than risking the grass. Possibly having the skid gear catch on a gopher hole or snag a fallen branch.
The aircraft chugged, again, the fuel gauge hugging the bottom, as he barely cleared the thrashing branches, allowing the chopper to virtually drop out of the sky. He flared off the speed at the last moment, then drove the helicopter onto the asphalt. The machine shook, rocking across the lot until it finally rolled to a stop, the engine cutting off a second later.
That ghostly voice whispered, “Hooyah,” in his ear, then faded, leaving a sense of lightness in its place.
Foster bowed his head, uttering a prayer of thanks when Zain clapped him on the back.
His buddy grinned as he shook his head, staring out at the pouring rain. “Now that’s how you come out of retirement. Welcome back, Beckett.”
Having Chase bark out orders killed any sense of accomplishment, and Foster was out of his seat and grabbing one end of the stretcher a moment later. Chase had the other, despite his shoulder not being close to healed, and they ran down the short stretch of road then turned onto the parking lot, still running.
The chopper must have made one hell of a racket — or maybe Atticus had heard them fly over and hedged his bet as to where they were headed — because there was a full medical team waiting next to the helipad. They converged on him and Chase, taking Mac then rushing her into the emergency room as more staff brought out wheelchairs for the other wounded.
Someone grabbed Foster’s arm, asking him if he was okay, but he brushed them off, sticking on Mac’s six as they wheeled her down the hallway then into a room. He stopped at the door, trying to keep his focus on her as the lead physician called out stats, none of which were encouraging.
A nurse blocked his way, muttering that they needed to work on her, but he simply pushed on through. He couldn’t leave her. Not when he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her how he felt. That she was his anchor. His sanity.
His damn soul.
The scenery swam a bit, and he took a staggering step back when Chase and Zain grabbed him, steering him into another room — tsking when he tried to resist.
Chase moved in front, arms mostly crossed, his death glare in full effect. “You can either sit your ass down and let them treat all those wounds, or I’ll sedate you, myself. Your choice, brother.”
“I’m fine. Mac…” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t jinx it.
Chase didn’t falter. “You’re not fine. You’ve got a bullet lodged in your arm, some kind of graze across your thigh, and what I think is a knife wound on your ribs. So, sit down and stay there until they’re done with you. Mac’s in good hands, but they can’t help her if you’re in there, looking as if you might fall on top of her from simply breathing.”
“If I did that, at least she’d know I was in the room.”
“Foster…”
“I need her to know I’m there. That I’ll have her back like she had mine.” He paused to take a breath, aware the next few words would change everything. Make it acutely real. “That I fucking love her.”
Chase grinned, then nudged Zain’s arm. “Told ya. And she does know. Christ, you flew through a damn cyclone to get her to the hospital. She knows what it took for you to get behind the controls.”
Foster swayed, again, tripping onto the exam table before fisting his best friend’s shirt and dragging him in close. “Don’t let them give up on her.”
“I won’t. Promise. Now, stay. I’ll drag Kash’s ass in here, too, and you can both sit there brooding while you wait for a doctor to treat you.”
Chase disappeared out the door, yelling Kash’s name. Foster thought about stumbling back to the other trauma room, but Zain stepped in front of him, shaking his head as he glared at Foster.
Foster groaned, nearly toppling off the slab when everything shifted, again. “You don’t have to glare at me, Zain.”
“Oh, I do, or you’ll think you’ve got a chance at besting me. You don’t, by the way, even with my shoulder screwed. So, don’t make me dump you on your ass.”
Foster huffed, but didn’t challenge Zain, looking up when Chase helped Kash stagger through the door.
Chase plunked Kash onto a chair, shaking his head as he took them all in. “Just once, I’d love for you jackasses to follow my orders without being dicks about it.”
Foster shrugged. “Then, stop telling us shit we don’t want to hear.”
“Then, stop getting shot.”
“I tried that. But you all kept on badgering me.”
Chase sighed. “Guess we really aren’t cut out for the quiet life.” He nodded at Foster. “Glad to have you back. Though, Atticus is going to tear you a new one when he sees what state you left his helicopter in.”