CHAPTER TEN
The sun hadn’t fully set, yet with the storm, the back of the cave where they’d stored their gear got swallowed by the darkness. Sidney went to retrieve their bedrolls, making Bryan stay put because she didn’t want him to have to put his leg back on until the morning. The hard rock floor would be an unforgiving mattress, but it beat sleeping out in the rain. Well, it was more of a drizzle now, but that wouldn’t make sleeping in it any dryer.
“How do you want to set them up?” she asked when she returned with the gear. Then she noticed the saddles had been cleared to the side. “I thought I told you to sit tight.”
He stood on one leg near where he’d moved the saddles. “I can help. I have a sore stump, that doesn’t make me an invalid.” His voice didn’t have to be raised for her to be singed by its heat.
Her heart tripped on a lumpy beat. “I didn’t mean— I was trying to let you rest, I wasn’t trying to—”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was uncalled for.”
Hopping over, he took the bedrolls from her hands, dropped them on the ground, and cupped her cheek. “I know you were trying to help. I appreciate it. Help is…” He swallowed hard, then continued. “Difficult to accept sometimes.”
“Yeah, I get that.” She pressed her cheek into his hand, liking his gentle strength maybe more than she should.
Stop. It.
She wasn’t going to think like that. They’d called a truce for the next couple of days and with that, she was calling a truce with herself as well. No more feeling guilty for liking a guy who had “heartbreaker” tattooed across his chest.
No. That was inaccurate.
She’d seen his chest. That expanse of tanned skin, the mat of black hair, and the thick muscles that created sweeping hills and enticing valleys, and there were no words of prophecy marring his perfect skin. He was just a man. A man with issues. Though she would be the worst hypocrite if she dared say his were any worse than hers. She wasn’t perfect. Not by a long shot.
“So how do you want to lay the bedding out?”
His smile was slow and sweet and grateful. “By the fire. Together.” The resonance dropped out of his voice when he said “together,” but it still came out sounding like a dare.
He traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and raised a brow, waiting. For acceptance, or protest?
He pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. A zing of arousal lit her nerves and danced in her belly and made her mind up. “T—” The single letter squeaked as it came out. She cleared her throat. “Together.”
The way he looked at her, she expected him to kiss her again, and much more, but instead he pulled her into his chest and held her tight against him. There wasn’t anything sexual in the embrace. He didn’t grab her ass or grind against her. Not that she would have minded, but instead it was as if he held her as a quiet acceptance of what was to come, of what they would share.
Beneath her ear, his heart thudded perhaps a little harder and a little faster than normal. Much like her own. He kissed her on the side of her head and let her go and together they spread out the blankets in front of the fire.
After moving one of the saddles back for Bryan to use as a back rest, she checked on the animals, offering water from a collapsible bucket they’d left out in the rain. The horses were out of luck for grazing, but Bryan had packed grain with them for caloric support. If nothing else, it would tide them over until morning. Then she kicked a couple of manure piles over the edge, checked Two’s hobbles, and called it good.
When she got back to what would be their bed, Bryan was already under the covers, his shirt off, the blanket lying low across his bare abdomen. He’d propped his shoulders on the saddle with his hands behind his head, watching her with the same awe and reverence she’d seen on his face when he’d admired Mac’s new pair of night-vision goggles.
You could take the boy and girl out of the Marines, but you couldn’t take the Marines out of Mac and Bryan.
“What?” She was still dressed, but she was more conscious of every move, every gesture, as if she were bare-butt naked.
He folded the corner of the blanket back in invitation. His leg was bare. Her steps faltered. Holy shit. Was he completely naked? Suddenly what they were about to do was all too real. How long had it been since she’d had sex?
Impractical Sidney started flipping through a mental calendar and shook her head sadly as month after month slipped by. Not helpful, she admonished her alter ego.
This was so not how she pictured this happening.
Unmatched, sturdy, practical underwear. Sigh. A breeze blew through, and she caught a whiff of herself. She was pretty sure Donkey smelled better, and had less hair on his legs and—
“Sid, don’t overthink this.”
—and…and forget the hair on her legs, the hair on her head was stiff with dirt and sweat. Lord help him if he tried to run his fingers—
“Sid.” He raised his voice, with an equal mix of amusement and what sounded like exasperation.
“Right.” She sat down on the blanket beside him and tugged off her boots and then her socks, because even though her toes were cold, she’d be damned if she was wearing grandma panties and socks to bed.
Sidney grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt. “Should I…” take my clothes off, she finished in her head. She made a tossing motion with her head instead.
“Take them off, leave them on. Up to you. What you need to do is get out of your head.”
She hadn’t been shy with him out by the stock pond the day the horses were stolen. If anything, she’d been a little aggressive. So what made today so different?
You like him. Impractical Sidney sang it like a short, taunting song.
Of course she liked him.
Uh-uh. Capital L like. Not little L like.
Sidney growled in her head. Nothing pissed her off more than when Impractical Sidney pointed out the obvious.
“Don’t laugh,” she said, as she shucked her shirt and her jeans and crawled under the covers he held up for her.
When she turned toward him, he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him. The fire was to her back. Bryan was mostly in the shadows, but the firelight danced in his eyes. “Why would I laugh?”
She tucked a thumb under her bra strap and let it snap back into place. “If Paul Bunyan had been a cross-dresser, I’m pretty sure his underwear would have been sexier.”
He traced a finger along the top edge of a cup.
After some thought, he said, “They are rather serviceable.”
She socked him in the arm, but she laughed. “You’re not helping.”
“If you got naked, the point would be moot.”
She faltered.
What. The. Freak! Impractical Sidney shouted, completely losing her mind. Why aren’t you naked yet?
Bryan settled further under the covers, bent his arm, and rested his head in his hand. He scanned her face and his eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept with someone?”
Impractical Sidney laughed. It had a hysterical ring to it.
“Guy or girl?”
He choked on whatever he was going to say next.
“Kidding!” Sidney said, before he got any dangerous ideas. “You first.”
He stopped laughing. “Honestly?”
She nodded.
He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but even in the low light his expression changed and she could tell that it did.
“Ten, eleven months ago. A few months after my divorce was final. One of the PAs at the rehab center I went to. It was a pity fuck, so not sure that really counts.”
“Eleven months is a long time, Marine. You saving yourself for the right woman?”
“Been there, done that, got the ‘just divorced’ T-shirt.” When he looked up at her he had a mischievous tilt to his lips. “Your turn.”
* * * *
Sidney’s turn to tell Bryan about her sex life. In a freaking cave, no less. Crapola. “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”
“Truthful?” His shadow, thrown on the wall, shrugged with him. “Got nothing to hide.”
“Just a choirboy.”
“Quit stalling.”
She groaned. “Okay, okay. So I had been seeing this guy, another horse trainer, for about a year when the news got out about my parents. Needless to say, he was too worried about the effects associating with me would have on his career to hang around a moment longer.”
“So he was the last?”
“Sadly, no.” She had to laugh or else she’d cry and that wasn’t happening. “About six months ago, I was feeling sorry for myself. So I kinda went through a slut phase.”
Bryan barked out a laugh. It was deep and rich and incredulous. “Sure you did.”
“Seriously, I went to a cowboy bar two nights in a row and picked up a guy and brought him home.”
“And?”
She wasn’t sure what he was asking. “And we had sex?”
“Irish, I don’t think sleeping with two guys can be considered a slut phase. Were you careful?”
“I always used protection and I had myself tested. Twice, to be sure.”
“I meant about your personal safety. Taking random guys home—”
“At the time, I didn’t care. They were decent guys, not looking for anything more than what I had to offer. After the second time, I realized how lucky I was. I know they as easily could have not been so nice.”
“You have to be careful.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. The irony of his statement while he tried to make a move wasn’t lost on her. But she knew him well enough to know he was a good man. Well enough to know if she said stop, he would.
Well enough to know he’d never hurt her on purpose.
He broke the kiss and eased her back, the saddle pad more comfortable than she’d expected. Tracing a finger down the line of her jaw, his hand shook. Anticipation, or something else? She pushed the negative thoughts from her mind. Negativity had no place between them tonight. Tonight, it was just the two of them.
Like Bryan had said. No pasts, no prejudices.
He rolled on top of her and settled between her legs, resting his weight on his forearms. “You good?”
She was alone in a cave in the mountains with a man she has grown to like with a capital L, with a soft heart and a hard body pressed against hers with the promise of a happy ending. At least for the night. “Perfect.”
She threaded her hands behind his head and guided his lips to the top of her breasts. He nipped and sucked at her tender flesh. Arching her back, he reached behind and flicked the clasp on her bra, pulled it free, and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. Where it landed, she didn’t see, but the fire didn’t kick up so it hadn’t landed there. Pity.
Inching lower, he laved first one nipple and then the other. The contrast between his hot mouth and the cold air made her nipples contract into tight peaks. Heat and pressure settled between her legs and she ground against him, urging him to hurry.
But, like a man planning an important mission, he wouldn’t be rushed. He cupped her breasts, squeezing gently as he kissed his way down her abdomen.
His beard tickled as his tongue circled her belly button, once, twice, before continuing south. When he got to her panties, she didn’t concern herself with their “serviceability,” as he’d so kindly put it. As it turns out, they came off as fast and as easy as the Victoria’s Secret varieties.
Then he flicked his tongue over her clit and her hips bucked up against him. “Holy fu—” she groaned, but couldn’t get the words out. She clamped her hands to the back of his head, but he didn’t need the encouragement. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, she splayed her legs wider, granting him better access.
He sucked and flicked his tongue and she rose higher to meet him. He muttered something that sounded a whole lot like a reverent “fuck me,” but over the rush of blood past her ears and her heavy breathing, the words very well could have come from her.
He brought her to the ragged edge. “Now, Bryan,” she managed.
The vibration from his chuckle sent her even higher. Then his tongue vanished, giving her a moment’s reprieve before he teased it farther into her folds. He tucked his hands under her ass and lifted her up, then dove in with his hard, warm tongue. In and out. Slow and then hard. She gripped his shoulders, his head, his hair. She was close. So close.
“Tell me you brought protection.”
He stopped what he was doing, which was both good and bad. No, it was good, because when she came she wanted to take him with her.
Slowly, he kissed his way back up her body. Gaining ground, inch by precious inch. The muscles in her abdomen fluttered as he skittered his tongue across them.
“I have my Glock,” he said, before taking a breast into his mouth. Then he released it with a soft pop. “I have my rifle.” He scooted up until he could nibble on her earlobe. “I have my boot knife.” Then he whispered in her ear. “What more could we want?”
His arousal was tight against her and she clamped her legs around him.
“Sweet, Jes—” His voice caught and he hung his head, resting his forehead on her shoulder, his breaths coming out in loud, raspy pants. “Okay, okay. Uncle.”
Raising back up, he found her lips with his. She could taste herself on him as he swept his tongue into her mouth. Then he broke the kiss, reached over, and held up the foil packet for her to see. “Happy?”
She wasn’t an electrician, but she was pretty sure something had short-circuited, because every time she looked at his lips her stomach clenched, flashing back to the mayhem he’d wrecked on her body.
“Ecstatic.” Snatching the packet, she pushed him to his back and straddled him. “My turn.”
He grabbed her wrist. “I don’t trust that look in your eye. What are you gonna do?”
“Uh-uh-uh,” she said, easily breaking the restraint. “No spoilers.”
“There’s gonna be one big spoiler if you’re not careful.”
What was that saying? Turnabout’s fair play? Better yet: all’s fair in love and war—even more appropriate.
She tossed a coy smile and then nipped him on the end of his chin. His whiskers poked, scratched, and tickled her lips. He smelled of smoke and horses and sweat and her.
* * * *
Boomer’s breath came rapid and short as Sidney scooted back and sat on the tops of his thighs, the saddle pad itchy against his back. The firelight shimmered off her breasts as she raked her fingernails over his chest and down his sides—six parts heaven and four parts hell—hard enough to leave a mark.
The marks on his skin would fade shortly, but what she was doing to his heart, to his head? His stomach tumbled. He had a feeling she would leave him scarred for life.
His right hand shook and he clenched the blanket in his fist and focused on the fiery fairy on his lap. Tearing the packet with her teeth, she spit out the tiny corner. Then that mischievous grin returned and suddenly she looked like the naughty black sheep of Tinkerbell’s family.
His cock jumped and she caught it with her hand. He hissed in a breath. Grabbing her wrist again, he said, “Don’t move.” His words came out gravely.
She raised a brow and her grin went wider. With one hand free, she bit down on another corner of the packet and pulled out the condom. His hand was clamped tight on her wrist, but that didn’t stop her from stroking upward and swiping her thumb across the bead of pre-cum. His balls tightened and the base of his spine tingled in anticipation.
He could have stopped her if he really wanted to.
Lifting his head, he watched as she slowly rolled the condom down. She sucked and licked at the base of him. Watching her tongue, her lips devour him, was more than he could take.
He threw an arm over his eyes, but that heightened the sensations with his vision gone. So he did the only thing he knew to do to distract himself: “R-remove the magazine and rack the slide and e-eject the round. Lock the slide back and v-visually and manually—”
She stopped her ministrations with a laugh. “What are you doing?”
He breathed deep and glanced down at her, but looking down at her with her ass in the air and her breasts hanging above him, made his scrotum tighten. He dropped his head back; it landed with a dull thud against the saddle pad and the hard ground. A short burst of pain radiated around his skull, but even that wasn’t enough of a distraction. “I’m reciting the steps for cleaning my Glock.”
“Am I boring you?”
There was no need to answer; she was driving him mad, and the crooked smile on her face said she damn well knew it.
He ensnared her wrists and pulled her up his torso until she was lying on his chest—her weight hardly registering. When he had her where he wanted her, he spanned her hips in his hands and raised her up until he was poised at her entrance.
She was hot and slick and ready for him.
Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her tightly against him, loving the way her soft breasts flattened against him. Then his hands started a languorous journey down the length of her sides, over her ribs, and—
With a little downward pressure, Sidney took him in in one long, steady slide. She moaned, and he grabbed her ass and held her tight against him, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper inside. His pulse throbbed at his temple, his neck, his cock. He captured her mouth with his. Then her eyes closed and she sat up, arching and throwing her head back with abandon. Her hands at his waist, she started a rocking rhythm that stroked him slow and steady.
Her breathing quickened, as did the rocking of her hips. Sitting up, he cradled her ass in the fold of his lap as she locked her legs behind his back. He ran his hands up over her rib cage, tracing the sweet under curve of her breasts with his thumbs, then squeezed the tight mounds. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into her and he teased a taut nipple with his teeth.
She laughed a moan. “That feels so g—”
He blew cold air on her wet nipple and her body shook. Inside, she clamped down harder. She was so damn close. He wanted her to come, wanted to feel her body milk his, wanted to feel her fly, to feel her fervor, but if she was going, he was damn well going with her.
He laid her down, careful to place her on the saddle pad for added cushion. The stone was hard on him, but he didn’t give it another thought. All he could think about was him and her and where their bodies intersected, where they were one.
With his weight on his arms, he cradled the back of her head and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her pulse hammered under his lips, her skin salty and somehow sweet. Slowly, he built the tempo—a fast walk, to a trot, to a canter—until they were galloping, their lungs gulping air, their hearts thumping, accelerating.
Then Sidney jumped and he leaped after her.
They fell together, a jumble of arms and legs and hearts and minds. He watched her land. The smile on her lips, the exhausted flutter of her eyelids. After her breathing slowed, he thought she’d fallen asleep. Then she opened her eyes, those impossibly green, impossibly intelligent, impossibly his, eyes. She’d given him everything. It humbled him. He wasn’t worthy. He almost looked away.
He didn’t.
He didn’t want her thinking he regretted it.
In the spark of the fire, he saw the reflection of himself mirrored in her eyes, and for the first time he saw himself for who he was. A man with a heart and a soul and numerous flaws and the ability to see himself through her eyes. See that the flaws didn’t make him less than—the flaws made him more. At least, they somehow did to her.
“Holy…” Sidney started.
“Fuck,” he finished for her.
“Exactly.” She giggled, and it was a soft, sweet sound that make his chest tight.
He kissed her on the tip of the nose and rolled off her to take care of the condom. When he rolled back, she was on her side with her head propped up in her hand.
“Not bad,” she said, like a coach to a kid who wasn’t living up to his potential. Except she had a satisfied grin on her face that gave her away.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Maybe I need to break out the whips and spurs next time.” She hid her face in the crook of her arm and groaned. “That was so cheesy. I can’t believe I said that.”
That she implied there would be a next time made his pulse kick and his dick come back to life. He scooted closer. “No to the spurs, but the whips…” He tossed his head from side to side like he was considering the addition.
She popped him on the arm. “I was kidding.”
“Damn shame.”
As he lay back against the saddle, she snuggled up against him, her hand tracing circles on his chest, one leg thrown over his, the blankets tangled beneath them, but even in the cool night air, they were still damp with sweat and the breeze was welcomed.
The rain had slowed to a drip and the fire had died down, though the coals still glowed hot. The animals had settled in for the night, their heads low, their rear legs cocked. With the rain, the insects were quiet, and somewhere near the mouth of the cave, a small animal skittered and scratched at the ground.
“What’s it like?” Her words came out soft and tentative, as if she were afraid that if she voiced it too loud, the question would be too real.
“What’s what like?”
“Having a prosthetic.”
“Better than the alternative.” He didn’t have to think about the answer, because the truth was, there were so many veterans worse off than him. Double, triple, quadruple amputees. And they’d been the ones lucky enough to survive.
“Why do you always deflect questions?”
“I don’t al—”
“Yeah, you do.”
He did? He shrugged. “Not on purpose.”
“I guess practice makes perfect in that case too.” There was no accusation in her words, more like an observation, but they still pricked his thick skin and set deep, like one of those treble hooks his dad had always used to fish for catfish in the stock pond.
She ran her hand over his abdomen, tracing the valley down his midline, not like she was trying to turn him on, but like she liked the feel of his skin under her fingertips. He caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers.
Just because she wasn’t trying to turn him on didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
“Will you do something for me?” she asked.
“Name it.” He didn’t hesitate. Or need any pre-qualifications. If she wanted something and it was in his power to give it to her, he would. And it wasn’t just the sex talking.
“Answer three questions. No deflection. No answering a question with a question. Just the truth.”
Beneath their joined hands, his guts liquefied and his dinner threatened to come back up. He kissed her on the forehead, closed his eyes, and hoped like hell it was something he could answer. “I’ll try,” was all he could promise.
“Why is your hand shaking?”
He didn’t have to look at their joined hands to know his was shaking. In fact, it had gotten worse instead of better, but he’d chalk it up to the adrenaline. “I don’t know.”
“Why do you think your hand is shaking?”
“You just asked me that.”
“No, I asked you why your hand was shaking. You said you didn’t know. I believe that. Knowing and thinking are not the same thing.”
His chest hurt, as if Donkey and come over and thumped two hooves square in his ribs. He didn’t want to put voice to his thoughts, because then they became all too real. But he had agreed, so…
He tried to take a deep breath, but the ache in his chest cut it short. “I haven’t had a drink since last night. I once watched a buddy go through alcohol withdrawal…”
He let his voice trail off. He was about to say, “It wasn’t pretty,” but he didn’t want to sugarcoat the truth. “And when the delirium tremens, the DTs, hit, it only got uglier and scarier.”
Funny how witnessing his buddy’s withdrawal hadn’t stopped Boomer from picking up the bottle.
And no one expected an IED to explode under them either. You’re invincible, you’re immune. It’s the unlucky bastard next to you that might get it, not you. You’re different.
Only Boomer wasn’t different.
His stomach vaulted in his abdomen and bile climbed up the back of his throat with sticky claws.
Boomer sat up and swallowed hard, running his hands down his face, his chest, and across his shoulders. His skin felt like he’d wrestled his way into a fiberglass suit.
Was that it? Was that why his hands shook? He was going through withdrawal?
She laid a hand on his forearm. “I think we should head back in the morning. My dad tried quitting cold turkey years ago. He ended up in the hospital.”
It was a shaky hand. Nothing more. “I’m fine.”
She laughed, but humor took a back seat and let anger drive. “We’re heading back in the morning. If I have to hog-tie you to the saddle, I will.”
“But—”
“So help me, if the next word out of your mouth isn’t ‘yes’ or ‘okay’ or ‘no problem’…” She left the threat dangling in the air between them.
Her eyes were narrowed, her face hard, her hair going in every direction but down, her breath deep, like she was ready to leap into action at any second. God, she was beautiful when she was riled. That she was fired up because of him, because she cared more about him than finding Eli, or working on the mustangs’ training… It meant he mattered.
To her.
He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, so he raised his hands in surrender. She blew out a loud breath. The tension cleared from her face and she laid back down on her side and pulled a blanket up to her neck. Her breasts were too amazing to be covered up. He lay down beside her and playfully tugged the blanket back down.
“So, what’s your third question?” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth waiting for the death blow he feared her next question would be.
“I’m saving that one for later.”
Should he be relieved, or petrified?
* * * *
The luminescent dial on Boomer’s watch told him sunrise was more than a couple hours away. The lingering coals did nothing to warm the cold, damp cave. His head pounded, his leg throbbed, his hand shook, his skin felt too tight, and nausea crawled through his belly.
He hadn’t slept, and he wasn’t going to anytime soon. He was in pain, and the nausea grew, but that wasn’t what kept him up. Admitting that he might have a problem weighed on him; Sidney had been right to be cautious where he was concerned.
With care, he slid out from beneath her arm and the blanket he’d pulled up when their bodies had cooled. He dressed easily in the dark, having left his prosthetic by his jeans and his jeans within reach. When he bore full weight on his prosthetic he grunted with satisfaction. The ACE bandage had taken up enough space, preventing the end of his stump from bottoming out in the socket.
At least one thing was going better.
He grabbed his holster off the horn of the saddle, strapped it on, and fastened the thigh strap. Then he stoked the fire, added more logs, and did a quick weapons check by the firelight. Full magazine. Chambered round. He re-holstered and stepped to the edge. Donkey gave a soft chuff, then settled back down. The horses didn’t move.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall. The scent of rain lingered and the way the wind gusted, they may not have seen the last of the wet.
Going back to the ranch at first light because of him was a pill even more bitter than the Vicodin.
Was he really going through withdrawal?
He pulled his shaking hand from his front pocket. Hell. Just give him a tambourine and he’d give Stevie Nicks a run for her money.
The truth was, a man couldn’t drink as much as he had, for as long as he had, and not have it affect him.
Didn’t make admitting it any easier on the ego.
And it didn’t mean he had to let it affect Sidney. Two more days. That’s all he needed to get through, then he could address the problems with his ill-fitting prosthetic, with his drinking. With the drugs?
He pulled the vial from the front pocket of his jeans, thumbed off the lid, and tossed a couple pills into the back of his mouth. Then added an extra one, for insurance.
Two for the pain, one for the alcohol.
He’d see how he was when the sun came up and make his decision then.
Like the horses, he cocked a hip, then rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
He startled. He didn’t move anything except his eyelids, staring out where the ink-black of the night had given way to the first shades of dark gray. Dawn approached. How long had he been dozing?
Without moving, he took a mental inventory. Something had woken him. What? The wall jabbed into the side of his head, his good leg was stiff and half asleep, and the skin on his knees stung like it was raw.
Carpet burn. Or should he say, cave burn? He smiled, remembering the night before, with Sidney beneath him, her heat, her body clamped—
A twig snapped. Knowing he was in the shadows, he righted himself, rolled his stiff shoulders, and silently un-holstered his Glock. He looked behind him, found Sidney’s silhouette beyond the fire. He didn’t want to take the chance that she had somehow managed to leave to go to the bathroom without waking him and have her be a victim of friendly fire.
Behind her, he scanned the dark recesses of the cave. If there was someone or something back there, he couldn’t see them, but he seriously doubted anything deadly could have slipped past the horses, and especially Donkey.
A rock tumbled nearby. Donkey snorted, his long, hairy ears rotating back and forth on top of his head like an AWACS radar.
Boomer hadn’t imagined it.
He slipped out and melted into the vegetation, careful that his own steps didn’t give him away. It could be an animal. Or a falling rock. But animals and falling rocks didn’t make his scalp tingle or the spot between his shoulder blades ache like someone had hammered a big, fat, neon target onto his back.
He held his Glock out in front of him, searching the darkness in front of his sights as he crept forward. His head swam and his depth perception played tricks with him. Trying to chalk it up to little sleep and having just woken up wasn’t working for him. A branch stabbed him in the forehead. Shit.
He knew the truth.
He was impaired.
He’d been taking one, sometimes two Vicodin for so long it didn’t seem to affect him anymore, but adding the third made a difference. Could he still hit a target at fifty yards? Fuck yeah, he could. Even slightly impaired, he didn’t doubt his ability to be accurate. He’d fought on much less sleep, under much more stress, under constant threat and fire. Did he have his normal edge? His normal focus? His—
Donkey brayed. Boomer froze. That wasn’t Donkey’s give-me-a-carrot voice.
The target between his shoulders burned like a hot brand. Then he smelled something over the mud and ozone, not the burning flesh of the imaginary branding, but a thick, pungent odor that reminded him of hot barracks and too much sun and not enough water for showers.
Man.
He spun as the jab of a gun barrel hit his ribs. He cocked his elbow, a battering ram to a nose, a face. Even as he did that, he knew he was a fraction of a second too late.
He connected with something hard. A shock of pain radiated up his arm, but with the hot rush of adrenaline he easily ignored it. A grunt, not a howl, as the blow glanced off bone, Boomer’s momentum carrying him through instead of the hard connection that would have stopped him as he’d planned. His boot slipped in the mud. He fought to regain his balance. Then, a crack on the back of his skull.
He heard it before he felt it. Probably the drugs. Stars danced in front of his eyes, then the pain bridged his brain’s muddled synapses. He opened his mouth to yell a warning to Sidney, but the ground came up to smack his face, and the words died on his lips.