Page 29 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

He groaned, his lungs catching on smoke and blood. He rolled onto his side, vision spinning. Dust was falling like snow. The air was thick with it, acrid and choking.

“Boomer here,” he rasped. “Taylor’s down. Unresponsive. Still breathing. Kodiak…”

His gut clenched. Nothing but silence.

“Hazard? Preacher? Ice? GQ? Fuck! Anyone!” Boomer said desperately, his voice cracking.

Silence, then Bash’s clipped reply, “Sending overwatch now. You need to move, structure’s compromised.”

Boomer didn’t wait.

Taylor was crumpled beneath him, her face smudged with soot, a gash along her temple pulsing dark. He checked her vitals. Pulse, stronger now. Breathing, shallow, but steady.

Relief almost buckled him.

“Not today,” he whispered.

Boomer hauled Taylor into his arms, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, the wet warmth under his plate carrier.

He ran.

Smoke. Shattered glass. A corridor collapsed behind him. Heat blistered the walls. The exit window loomed ahead, half-blown out, a jagged maw of light and grit.

Boomer didn’t slow.

“Get out front. I’ve got wounded in here. The door’s blocked. We’re digging out. Fire is getting out of control!”

He kicked low, cleared debris with one arm, and shoved through, pulling Taylor with him.

They spilled into the alleyway. Fresh air slammed into him like salvation.

Local responders were just arriving—fire crews, tactical medics. A cluster ran toward the front entrance.

Boomer staggered to his feet. “They’re trapped in there!” he roared. A firefighter and several of his teammates headed for the twisted front doors with shovels and axes. Boomer dropped to his knees, Taylor still in his arms. “Break,” he muttered. “We’re out. We’re alive.”

Breakneck’s voice came, this time softer. “Copy that, brother. Sit tight. We’re coming to you.”

Boomer looked down at Taylor, still unconscious, still warm, still breathing.

And his .

Even now.

Especially now. He looked at the warehouse. It was going to give, and his brothers were in there. Torn in two. He motioned an EMT over. “Take care of her,” he muttered, then rose and ran toward the fire.

Taylor’s world came back in fragments. Cool air tinged with smoke. Distant sirens. The acrid sting in her lungs.

Her head lolled, cheek pressed to rough gravel.

She coughed once, blinking against the haze.

She tried to sit up, her limbs protesting, but she managed, determined to find him.

Her heart dropped. “Boomer?” she rasped.

She looked around, chaos in motion. Fire crews shouting.

Medics moving stretchers. Iceman with blood on his temple, barking orders. Breakneck pacing like a caged wolf.

But no Boomer.

Her breath hitched. “Carter?” Louder this time. “Where is he?”

The EMT warned her in accented English, “Don’t move.”

She struggled, fought. “Where is he?”

Then she saw him, emerging from the smoke-filled corridor of the warehouse like a goddamn revenant.

One man slung over each shoulder, unconscious, blackened with soot. Her heart squeezed.

His gait was heavy, but his grip didn’t falter.

He walked like the building wasn’t collapsing behind him.

Like nothing would stop him. Taylor’s heart seized in her chest. He set the men down gently, like they weighed nothing, those muscular legs flexing.

He turned, and her breath caught. He was looking for her.

When their eyes met, the power of her feelings overwhelmed her, and her only thought was that she had to have him under her hands, the taste of him in her mouth, his body deep inside hers.

Her voice caught in her throat. Dirty. Bloodied. Powerful. There were no words for how she felt about him. This man, who had gotten her clear when she’d blacked out from the concussive blast. Magnificent .

She pushed up, evading the EMT’s hands as he tried to get her to lie down, but his words meant nothing.

There was only one set of hands, one man who could silence this turmoil inside her, and he was in reach.

Oh, Gott . He was finally within reach, and she wanted him.

Not under duress, not because he could fill a void her pain caused, not because she wanted his body. She wanted him, only him.

She pushed up, took two staggering steps. Then she was running full out toward him. When she reached him, she threw herself into his waiting arms. It wasn’t professional, it wasn’t quiet or private. It was full-out public and personal, and she didn’t give a goddamned who wasSee watching.

She was unraveling as he held her so tightly, she could barely breathe.

In the beginning, he felt like a risk she couldn't control, but he saw what she was holding back, and he didn't try to fix her.

He waited, and he hurt, and he yearned, but he never pushed her, never overwhelmed her.

His quiet, aching patience, his presence, the solid feel of him, it was all starting to make her crack.

Her breakdown hadn't been about him, but cleared a space for her to experience it, to give in to her pain that had weighed her down for years… guilt, sorrow, grief, regret…all of it had been trapped inside. She'd broken down right in front of him, knowing , Gott, trusting that he would catch her.

She'd known he would, instinctively, knew that this man would give her his strength when she was weak.

..no not weak... vulnerable . Her control had served her, yes, but it had also caged her.

True connection couldn't exist without mutual trust. Love wasn't a threat to her.

It was a reinforcement of it. She didn't have to carry everything alone.

Could she love him without losing her identity?

She shivered at the implications. Through it all, he'd just stood like a bulwark against a storm passing through him, and she couldn't deny any longer that she was allowed a life.

That all those feelings regarding Ansel were just and right.

He needed her, and she wasn't going to turn away from Ansel like she had Emil.

She couldn't save her brother, but she could give Ansel the life he deserved, the love he needed, and the space and support he required to grow into the man he was destined to be.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough with smoke. “You okay?”

She nodded, but her hands were already on him, frantic and firm. “I couldn’t find you. I didn’t like it one damn bit.”

His expression altered, and even in the faint moonlight filtering in, she could see his eyes darken, his gaze becoming soft and intimate. “They were trapped,” he said. “No one gets left behind, ever. My guys. The Brits. Your guys.”

She pulled him in, just for a second, her forehead against his shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Boomer’s arms wrapped around her with infinite care. “I’m right here,” he said.

She took a shuddering breath. “I should have known you would be right in the thick of it. That’s who you are…

the kind of man who gives so much yet takes so little.

” His throat worked, and he looked away.

She grabbed his chin. “Don’t do that,” she whispered.

“Don’t hide from me. It’s too late anyway.

I see you, Carter, and I really, really like what I see. ”

He blinked several times, swiping at his eyes. “Damn smoke,” he muttered. But she guessed it wasn’t the smoke. “I mean every word I said.”

His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes had that distant, far-off focus that only came with pain he wouldn’t admit.

Taylor saw it, and she was done watching him bleed for everyone else. She turned, wobbling once, then steadied herself against his arm. “Kodiak!” she barked.

The big medic turned, halfway through wrapping a bandage on Hazard’s forearm.

“Yeah?” She stormed toward him, grabbed his sleeve, and yanked. He blinked, startled. “Tay?—”

She yanked again. “Move, now.”

“He was my next priority,” Kodiak said with a soft laugh.

She kept pulling. “Well, he’s my first.”

If her words hadn’t gutted him before, these landed with a hard punch to his throat. Fuck. What the hell was she trying to do? Kill him herself?

Boomer tried to wave her off as they approached, but changed his mind the moment he caught the thunder in those Nordic eyes.

Kodiak followed, shaking his head, his expression somewhere between warning and amusement, like he wasn’t sure if Boomer needed a medic or a muzzle.

There was a tight twitch to his mouth, and something in his eyes that said, Don’t screw with this woman.

She’ll have your hide before I can stitch it back up.

“Don’t even,” Taylor snapped, pointing at him like he was the problem child in a briefing gone sideways. “Sit. Down.”

He sat.

Not because she scared him. He was too damn tired to argue and because part of him loved hearing her lay claim to him in front of everyone like it was nonnegotiable .

Kodiak dropped to his knees beside him, med kit already unlatched. “You okay, brother? Her sharp tongue do any damage? Tell me where it hurts.”

A purely male look passed between them, too exhausted for humor but thick with implication. Boomer looked away before he lost it. Kodiak knew exactly where it hurt.

He had a monumental dick ache for this woman.

Taylor knelt as well, brushing his cheek with her thumb, her voice low and intimate.

“You save the world later, hero. Right now, let someone save you. ”

His chest twisted. Mike’s face came out of nowhere, then it was gone, blown to hell. He swallowed hard, the moment felt so real, like he was reliving the shove, the blast…pain gutted him. Someone had already saved him and given his life.

Boomer built himself around utility, his breacher skills, his body, his humor, his ability to survive when things went sideways.

But was he enough to make someone stay? His ex-wife didn’t just leave him, she made him feel replaceable.

Disposable, and he’d felt like a backup plan ever since.

Love was conditional. Trust was dangerous.

And vulnerability? That’s how you got gutted.