Page 33 of Lucky Charm

When the aftershock and dirt settled, he stepped away. “That one seemed farther away. Let’s move people. Bundle up.”

Two minutes to the second and the nine of them were ready to file out of the entrance to the cave.

K-Rock went ahead, foraging a path.

He gave the man a thirty count. “Let’s move before they fire again and get lucky enough to bring this whole cave down around us.”

He put his face close to Doc’s. “Anything bothering you, you tell me. Immediately. Understood?”

“Yes. I promise.” Her eyes killed him. Soft with misery, but behind that was sheer determination. “I’m not going to get anyone killed.”

“Oh sweetheart, no worries there. They have to find us first.” He patted her back, then moved out ahead of Quaid to cut a trail, forcing himself to go still and cold inside.

If there was one thing he knew he was good at, it was this job. If he believed in fate, he’d say all his life experiences were coalescing into this moment.

Protect Doc. Save Doc. Love Doc.

Shit. What did he know about love?

∞∞∞∞∞

Cait turned her face into Quaid’s neck and tried to stay warm and quiet. It was an ongoing struggle. While the snow had stopped, the wind had not. Stray bits of snow crystals kept blowing across the exposed part of her face. She was panting more, oxygen thinner at this level than she’d ever experienced. She was hyperaware that the men were able to be extremely quiet in body function and movements. She had to try harder.

Quaid turned his head to whisper. “You all right, Doc?” He kept up a steady one-two pace that belied the difficulty of the winding, slick trail.

“Yeah.” She put as much conviction behind that one word as she could even though it was a lie.

They had been at it for an hour and were going up and up. She wanted a hot bath, a large plate of lasagna, and her bed wrapped in her homemade blanket. Not that she’d handmade the soft quilt herself. She’d found it in a small shop in Texas before she’d made the trek to Afghanistan. It brought mental comfort as well as physical.

Last tour.

Somewhere deep inside the decision resolved.

Third time was the charm, or the fed-up factor was in play. Either way, she was done.

She’d done her job for God and country.

She’d found Hunt. Mission successful.

The cold was a killer. The threat was a killer.

Her easy-in, easy-out mission – her commander’s words, not hers – was a bust. She was not thriving on this challenge. She was scared to death.

Yet, she trusted Hunt. A woman couldn’t spend ten minutes with the man without understanding his strength and determination. She’d spent eight hours in a naked sleeping arrangement with him, and her trust factor was sky-high. He’d put thought and tender care into getting her back on her feet, and he did it without losing sight of her dignity. And what was up with his pack? Every time she needed something, he had it.

Snapping her focus back to the trail, she tried and failed to stay in tune with what was going on. It was necessary if she needed to drop off Quaid’s back, but it was a gargantuan task against the reality of the circumstances. The only thing keeping her calm was once in every little bit she raised her head and could see Hunt’s back in the growing morning light. She no longer had her earbud, so she couldn’t tell if the men were talking to each other or were silent. Quaid wasn’t talking, so he gave her no clue.

The man was a solid mass of muscle. She’d give him that. He handled the weight as a part of his everyday routine, which took the guilt about being a complication they didn’t need.

They plateaued a few minutes later, and Quaid stopped. “About to change you out, Doc. We’re headed straight cross-country now. You’re going to go with Tommy for the next stretch.”

She dropped her legs and slid to the ground, wobbly and weak. Screaming pain made her suck in air, but she tightened against the agony and powered through the worst of it. Dammit. She was going to change her exercise regime for the next time she ever got trapped with a SEAL team on a snowy mountain.

Carter slipped in beside her. “Doc? Hanging on?”

“Yes,” she answered, even as her teeth chattered.

He reached inside her jacket and checked her skin temperature and then shook his head. “I can’t take your temp, but you’re chilled.”