Zach balled his hands into fists, feeling more helpless by the minute, wanting to help the poor young woman being tortured inside the warehouse but knowing it could be a suicide mission. He could hear her screams of agony from his location outside the warehouse they were holding her in.

After the caravan of SUVs had taken off down the dark road with their American hostage, he had moved on autopilot, not stopping to consider the implications of following them. He just knew he couldn't turn a blind eye to what he'd seen. He didn't believe in coincidence. Considering this was the first time in his marine career that he found himself on foot in enemy territory, he assumed running into an American woman in danger was reason enough to take action.

Now, after evaluating his options, he wished to hell he were blissfully up in the air, flying over this fucked-up mess, oblivious to the dire situation the beautiful young woman inside found herself facing.

Surprisingly, he'd had no trouble getting inside the walls of the Blanco residence. He suspected the locals were so damn afraid of the powerful crime family that none of them were stupid enough to try to gain access.

Not sure what that says about how smart I am, since I'm here.

He'd encountered only one armed guard on patrol inside the walled barrier. Zach had the element of surprise on his side, sliding the blade of his knife across the neck of the goon from behind, downing him where he stood. He suspected he'd feel guilty for killing a man later, once the adrenaline left his bloodstream, but at the moment, he found himself wishing he could repeat his actions on every fucking asshole inside the warehouse.

It hadn't been hard to know where to go. The three SUVs from the road were parked in front of a rather rickety metal shed that looked to serve as a warehouse for some of the crime cartel's illegal goods. He'd made his way forward, crouching low, and moving from a row of bushes to a stack of empty pallets that made a good cover. From his vantage point, he could see the side door to the warehouse had been left open, carelessly displaying the goods stacked inside. He spotted pallets of wooden crates labeled as electronics, technology, and medical supplies. The crate labeled 'baby formula' seemed out of place.

He saw no signs of the illegal weapons they were on a mission to recover, which didn't surprise Zach. There were three Blanco brothers. While they made one crime family, it was common knowledge that they each headed a different division of their perverted organization. Missing from the warehouse in front of him was Miguel, the gunrunner of the family. With any luck, his marine buddies had neutralized that brother on their mission a few miles away.

Zach wished he'd studied the files on the remaining two brothers more carefully. They were generally deemed as the less dangerous of the threesome, but based on his own observations, he now knew their Intel in that area was false.

Carlos was the head of the family's large drug running operation. The DEA had several battalions on the ground in Colombia providing support to the Colombian government as they fought the war on drugs. The marines did not often get tangled up in that particular vice, but listening to the devious crime lord experimenting on the innocent woman strapped to the torture chair, Zach decided he would definitely be making an exception to that rule if he got the chance.

The most evil brother of them all, however, was Ricardo. The youngest of the three, he had not been happy being a second to his oldest brother in running drugs or second to his middle brother in his gunrunning business. It was a well-known fact that Ricardo made his own fortune peddling flesh. At least the intelligence had pegged it right when it labeled him a sadist who took pleasure in buying, selling, and even kidnapping women and men for the purpose of sexual slavery. When Zach had read the background report on the crime family when he was stationed in the region, he'd assumed some of the salacious stories of sadistic torture had been exaggerated. Now, after watching the brothers in action inside for over twenty minutes, he knew the stories to be true.

Zach had, of course, radioed in his location and intended actions once he made up his mind to infiltrate the compound. Major McIntyre had lost his shit and ordered Zach to fall back and proceed to the extraction rendezvous. He'd told himself he'd do exactly that just as soon as he'd gotten the Intel on where they were holding her, and how many guards they would face when they came back for her. He had moved closer to get a better look at what was happening.

But once he'd seen the torture the poor woman inside was being subjected to, he couldn't leave her. Zach had tried to report his change to his superior officer, but Superman must be in the middle of his own mission and on radio silence.

The piercing scream from inside the warehouse tore at Zach's insides. He had limited visibility through a small crack in the wall, but he needed to get closer if he was going to get the info he needed about what was happening inside.

Zach fell to his chest, crawling along the dusty ground close to the warehouse. He stayed low, glad for the pitch-black night and limited man-made lighting. He was on the south side of the building and had a view of the brightening sky to the east as pre-dawn arrived. The sun would be up soon, and then he'd be in deep shit.

He stopped directly under the only small window on the entire south side of the building. It would be risky to stand up to look in, but he didn't have a choice. He lifted his field binoculars to his face, making a sweep of the wall and surrounding area, relieved to find it free of pesky guards. Dread washed though him as he realized most of them had probably gone inside so they would watch the torture in progress.

Knowing he was running out of time, he broke radio silence to report in, relieved when Superman answered this time.

"You at the backup rendezvous, Thunder?"

"No, sir. The situation on the ground has degraded. We will need extraction from a closer location."

"We, soldier?"

"Yes, sir. We can't leave her behind."

A long silence dragged on. He could imagine the curse words being used at the other end of the radio. He didn't even blame Peter.

"Dammit, Zach. This was not our mission. My ass is gonna be in a sling if we start world war three down here. Guns are a threat to national security. Saving some chick is not."

"Maybe not, but it is a matter of national honor. She's an innocent. She's American. She deserves our help."

"Are you sure you aren't thinking with your dick, soldier?"

"Fuck you, Peter. You know me well enough to know I love 'em and leave 'em. This isn't about her. It's about doing the right thing. They are hurting her. Bad. She won't make it out of here alive. We are her only chance." When there was no answer, he added assertively, "I'm not leaving without her."

"God dammit, Thunder." A long minute passed. Zach spent the minute praying the unit would back him on his decision. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could take on the entire compound without help. He had exactly one knife, a handgun, and two grenades. He'd confiscated the rifle the guard had carried, but it only had two rounds in it. What he'd give for an M16 right now.

"All right, we have the coordinates. We are at our primary rendezvous. The backup bus will be here within two minutes. We got in and out of the compound under the radar. There is a three-minute countdown before our surprise explodes. We have detonators rigged to blow on the arms cache. With any luck, we'll have some time in their confusion after the blast to sneak in and pick up a stowaway for the ride home."

Relief flooded Zach. There were still so many things that could go wrong, but he didn't want to think about it.

"Keep your head down. The bus will have to set us down at least a mile out, and we'll hoof it in on foot. We'll be in touch when we hit your neighborhood."

"Roger that. And Major… thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm still deciding if I'm going to have your ass court-martialed for insubordination for ignoring my direct order." The radio went silent.

Fuck. This blows.

Zach checked his six again before standing, hoping to see through the small window. The bastards who built the building had planned ahead, placing windows too high for any passerby to see inside. He pulled over several broken pallets, stacking them to make a platform. He was risking being seen, but he needed to know how many guards they'd face once inside.

The sight that greeted him through the dingy glass turned his stomach in knots. He closed his eyes, reopening them seconds later, sure what he had seen was a mirage. Blind fury consumed him as he realized the scene was oh so real.

He counted seven guards milling about inside. More than one had his dick out, stroking off as they fucking enjoyed the agony of the naked woman strapped helpless to a chair created for one thing—holding victims immobile while they were tortured.

He didn't need the file to know that the only two men in the building wearing business suits were two of the three Blanco brothers. Knowing Superman was playing with the gun-smuggler, he knew these two were the drug and slave traders. A lethal combination for the poor young woman in that chair.

Had they already killed her? He worried he was too late as he watched her carefully and found no signs of movement. He was too far away to hear the conversation taking place between the brothers. She had screamed just minutes before. Had they used too much force to silence her?

As he assessed the scene, her position suggested they'd been taking turns raping her. Rage that he was too late to prevent that from happening consumed him. He prayed he'd have an opportunity to use his knife on a much more private location on their bodies than their necks.

Zach felt relief and dread in equal measure when the woman regained consciousness. Something was wrong. She was fighting like a mad woman against her restraints. Even from his distance, he could see blood flowing down her arms from cuts on her wrists. The metal manacles were cutting into her flesh but she acted as if she couldn't even feel the pain.

He had no idea how it must feel to be in her position, but he knew something was really wrong. There was a manic quality to her flailing that alarmed him. She was going to be difficult to subdue when they liberated her. He hoped they wouldn't need to knock her out to transport her.

The sound of laughter hit his ears. It seemed out of place for the scene, and it took a minute for Zach to understand it was the Blanco brothers inside the warehouse who were laughing. The fuckers were laughing at her distress. Laughing at her desperation. Fuck, they were taunting her. He couldn't hear their words but he understood her keening scream so well.

I need to get her the fuck out of there.

He needed to create a distraction so he could get in there and cut her loose. He was fondling one of his two grenades when he noticed all of the men inside had started pulling their cell phones from their pockets and were looking down.

Panicked shouts met his ears. Several of the guards who had been playing with themselves put their boners away and rushed out of the north side of the building. The brothers were ignoring their captive, in deep conversation with each other.

The shipment must have blown up. Their brother a few miles away was sending out a warning to the rest of the family to watch their backs, that there were hostiles in the area. There was no other reason Zach could think of that would explain the sudden distraction in the warehouse.

In the confusion that followed, he knew he would never have as good an opportunity to rescue her as that moment. The warehouse had turned into a deserted wasteland, the two brothers and what looked like a doctor in a lab coat were the only three men who remained with the captured American.

Zach jumped down from the pallets and crouched low. He drew his Berretta and made sure the safety was off. When he got to the southwest corner of the building, he stopped to assess the situation. Heavily armed men were pouring out of the surrounding buildings at an alarming rate. Soon, his squad would be well outmanned.

It was now or never. The residence was in confusion. No one had taken charge yet. He needed to capitalize on their disarray. He pulled out his radio and let his commanding officer know his update. "Situation has changed. Need to move in and secure the asset ahead of schedule. Will check in when mission accomplished. Over."

He didn't wait for a reply. He'd made up his mind. He was going in.

Zach used a group of scrubby bushes as cover first, crouching low and crawling to the cover of an ancient magnolia tree that was only ten feet from the side entrance to the warehouse. He'd have no cover once he stepped out from behind the tree.

He heard the sound of a helicopter in the distance and knew help was on the way. Apparently some of the guards on the ground heard it as well, as they were rushing to get into the tower lookouts, planning on maintaining their advantage.

It was time. He rushed forward, staying low until he got to the side entrance. The door was unlocked and he opened it quietly, hoping to maintain his element of surprise. An ordinary business office greeted him once he was inside. File cabinets. Desks. Chairs. Nothing unusual.

The scream of the woman being tortured met him through the thin wall of the office and Zach was thrilled to see the door on the opposite side of the space that led to the warehouse.

He crept along the floor, keeping low and opening the interior door slowly.

His target was now in sight, less than ten yards away. He forced himself to ignore the woman. She was a distraction at this point. He gave all his attention to the three men in the room. The brothers were arguing in Spanish. He couldn't make out the words, but the sentiment was clear. They were afraid.

How do you like feeling afraid, assholes?

He wished the third man in the room were closer to the brothers. That way, when he rushed the room, all three bogies would be in range together. The doctor hovered close to their victim.

Time was running out. He needed to make his move. The brothers would be armed. They were the most dangerous threat in the room. He could only hope his hunch was right and that the doctor was unarmed.

He didn't leave his cover. The brothers never knew what hit them as Zach squeezed the trigger, plugging two bullets into the center body mass of each of the Blanco brothers. Both men fell to the ground as Zach rushed forward, weapon drawn, now pointed directly at the doctor standing behind the screaming woman.

The man's eyes were frantic as he recognized a United States Marine pointing a gun at his chest.

Zach saw the syringe the man now held against the neck of the immobile victim. The threat was obvious. Come any closer, and he'd inject her. Zach had no way of gauging the threat level of that little needle, but knowing how fucked up Carlos Blanco was, he suspected it was not good.

"Drop the needle and I won't hurt you." Zach took another step closer, moving slow, but refusing to lower his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked for movement, relieved when there was none.

"Suelta el arma."

"Fuck you. I'm not dropping my weapon."

"La mataré."

"And I'll kill you one second later."

Zach saw the fear in the doctor's eyes. He wasn't a warrior. The only weapon the man had was a syringe. He had a plan.

Zach held his hands up as if he were surrendering. "Okay, okay. Don't hurt her anymore."

The hand with the deadly dose wavered, falling away from her neck just a few inches. It was the window he needed.

Zach's aim was true. It only took one second to re-aim and pull the trigger, striking the doctor in the chest and catapulting him backwards. The needle flew out of his hand, ricocheting to the floor.

Zach did a four-point turn, clearing the building for additional unfriendlies before stuffing his Beretta in the back waistband of his pants and rushing to the desperate woman's side.

He took a second to assess her situation. She was still flailing, as if she was unaware of what was happening around her. Her naked body had a sheen of perspiration, but the wicked raised welts peppered across her thighs, breasts, and even her stomach confirmed she'd been beaten. Her long, sandy blonde hair was a mess from her fight to be free. It covered most of her face, but he could make out the dark purple bruising across her left jaw where she had been punched. They had fucking punched a helpless woman. If they weren't already dead, he'd enjoy killing the fuckers all over again.

They were running out of time. He stepped closer, reaching out slowly while he spoke in soft tones. "Shhh. You're safe now. I'm gonna get you out of here."

If he didn't know for a fact that she spoke English from her shouting out in the forest, he'd have sworn she didn't understand. She was hurting herself by continuing to attempt to get her arms free.

He got more aggressive, swishing her hair away from her face and placing his hands on either side of her head to stop her thrashing. The second their eyes met, he knew she'd been drugged. And, from the looks of things, they'd given her an overdose of whatever the hell they gave her. Her eyes were black, her pupils were so dilated. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow pants as she gasped for air. Most alarming of all, her skin felt cold to the touch in the humid air.

Not only would she not assist in her own rescue, Zach knew he would need to carry her. With dread, he worried he might even need to knock her out himself just to keep her from fighting him. He had to try to connect with her. Make her understand what was happening.

Holding her head firmly to keep her looking at him, he leaned in to speak close to her. "Hey there. I'm here to get you out of here, but you need to help me by calming down. Can you do that?"

Her eyes fluttered frantically, trying to look around. He made her focus only on him. "What's your name? My name is Zach."

With relief, he saw her confusion. She was listening. He kept talking. "I'm with the marines. We're here to rescue you, but you need to stop hurting yourself."

Her mouth opened. She was trying to talk. All he could make out was; "Dad?"

She was young, but Jesus, did she think he looked like her father? He pushed down his irrational anger.

"No. I'm Zach. My friends call me Thunder."

This time she repeated so he could hear. "Did Dad send you?"

He didn't even know who she was, so how could her father have sent him? "No. I don't even know your name." Now that she had stopped flailing, he'd begun to undo the buckles holding her in place.

It took her several attempts to get her name out. "Allie."

"I like that name, Allie." And he did.

He had just released the last restraint when the sound of gunfire nearby penetrated the warehouse walls. They needed to get the hell out of there.

Zach knew it was going to hurt like hell, but he had no other choice. He scooped Allie into his arms, ignoring her cries of pain. "Wrap your arms around my neck, Allie. I've got you, but I want to keep my right arm ready to shoot if we come under fire."

Good. She understood. She was so weak that she could barely hold on as he ran back towards the office. They'd exit the way he'd come in.

She felt fragile in his arms. An irrational surge of anger almost consumed him as he listened to her feeble whimpers of pain and fear. He pushed it down to keep his mind on the mission. He needed to get them to the rendezvous.

He traced back to the pallets below the south window, stopping there long enough to lay Allie down and pull his radio out of his pack.

"Thunder checking in. What's your twenty, Superman?"

"On foot. One click south of your position. ETA five minutes."

"Roger that. Had to make my move. Target was in danger. I've neutralized immediate danger and secured the asset. We are on foot and headed in your direction. Try not to shoot us by accident."

"When we get back to base, you and I are going to have a long chat about what it means to receive and follow orders, marine."

Zach would deal with the fallout later. Right now, he just needed to get them the hell out of Dodge. "Yes, sir. I'd expect nothing less, sir."

He could hear the humor in Major McIntyre's voice. "Try not to get yourself shot in the meantime. I want that ass of yours whole when it gets the chewing it deserves."

Zach grinned. "Yes, sir. I'll do what I can."

He was about to replace his survival pack on his back when he realized Allie was near convulsing. Her skin was clammy and cold to the touch. Whatever they'd given her had dropped her core body temp. He first reached into his pack and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Allie. I need you to drink water. We need to try to flush whatever shit they gave you out of your system." He held the bottle to her lips. She was shaking and they ended up spilling as much water as made it down her throat.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He replaced the bottle. He'd give her more when they were safely on the helicopter on the way back to base. He pulled the thin survival blanket from his pack next, spreading it out before wrapping it around her shoulders. It wasn't large, but it was meant to keep soldiers warm if trapped in the wilderness in inclement weather. It would help warm her and preserve her dignity. He didn't like the idea of the ten soldiers they were about to meet up with seeing her naked and beaten body.

He made a final sweep with his binoculars. The chaos in the compound continued, heightened by the screams from inside the warehouse as the three dead bodies were found. They needed to move, and fast.

Zach scooped Allie up again, this time the thin blanket was between his arms and her skin. He took the time to pull the blanket up over her front.

"Can you hold on to my neck again, honey? I'm gonna need to move us fast."

Arms circled his neck. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck. He caught a whiff of an unexpected scent. He was sure he was imagining things.

He went slow, retracing his steps to the location in the wall where he'd entered. The bloody body of the first guard he'd neutralized lay exactly where he'd left it, still obscured by the brush. The guards on the wall would have no trouble seeing the body soon, once the rising sun crested over the horizon. It was just one more reason Zach needed to book it.

Three minutes later, they were deep enough in the surrounding forest for Zach to relax a bit. He slowed, catching his breath as he took cover in the middle of a particularly thick set of brush. He wanted to check on Allie. She'd begun moaning several hundred feet earlier, as if she was in pain.

One look into her manic eyes and he could see she was losing the battle with whatever the hell drug they'd injected her with. He pulled the water out of his pack again, forcing her to swallow as much as he could, spilling a fair share on the ground.

"Allie. Stay with me, honey. I know it hurts."

She whispered something. He must have heard her wrong.

"Just relax. You don't have to talk."

Her voice got stronger. "Need you. Now. Please," she begged.

"I'm here. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you anymore."

She seemed agitated. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment he saw her lucidity trying to get out. "Don't understand. Desperate."

"Hang on. We'll get you to the doctor back on the base. He'll figure out what they gave you and can help you detox."

She groaned as if in agonizing pain just before she fought to free her hands from the tangle of the blanket meant to keep her warm. As soon as her hands were free, she pulled the blanket back and…

This was seriously fucked up. Zach sat transfixed as he watched Allie use her hands to attack her own pussy. There was no finesse. Her actions were frantic. The growling sounds she made were animalistic.

The fuckers. What the hell did they do to her?

Zach sat frozen, unsure what the hell to do. He was prepared to deal with the enemy, but this… This he was not prepared for.

They needed to keep moving. He looked around, making sure they weren't being followed while the innocent—beautiful—victim in his arms frigged herself right before him.

So he had correctly identified the scent he'd caught back at the compound. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the woman in his arms was in heat, so desperate was her need for sex. Now that he was aware, there was no escaping it. Not the scent of her. Not her sexual growls. Not even her pleading eyes that she'd turned back on him. Begging him to fuck her.

They really did need to keep moving.

"Allie, honey. I don't know what the fuck they gave you, but we need to keep moving. We are still too close to the warehouse and we need to hurry to catch the helicopter they are sending for us."

Her eyes went wide with panic. "Please. I… I'm desperate."

Her wet right hand moved from her pussy to grab at the front of his fatigues. She was trying to free his cock.

He captured her hands in his, holding them still. The smell of her was intoxicating, and he hated himself for growing hard beneath her.

"There is no way I'm going to violate you in your condition. None. It's the drugs talking. You're going to have to fight it, Allie."

"But—"

"It would be rape. I'd cut my own dick off before I took advantage of you right now, honey. We'll get more water when we meet up with my unit. We need to keep flushing that shit out of you."

There was enough light now to see her eyes were frantic with need. He felt her reach for his hand, holding it in her own briefly before tugging it down between her legs.

Christ.

"Please, Zach. Help me. Just this once. Take the edge off."

She was soaking wet. He'd avoided gawking at her naked body as best he could, but there was no avoiding the feel of her now. Their eyes remained locked. He could see a direct correlation between her lucidity and his touch.

He was going to go to hell for this. He was sure of it. He'd been a horn-dog for years. He'd hurt his share of women who'd been looking for a commitment he could never provide. He'd even slept with a married woman or two. None of these events he was proud of, but none of those things came even close to how fucked up he felt touching the innocent young woman he currently held in his arms. The fact that she was begging him was irrelevant. She was the victim. He was victimizing her.

The lust in her eyes drew him in. His resolve was wavering, and when she began grinding herself against his stationary fingers, he caved.

She'd closed her eyes, chasing a climax he prayed would take the edge off her misery.

"Allie, open your eyes." She slowly complied. He was relieved to see some of the frantic urgency receding. His mind made up, he instructed her. "Tell me to stop if you change your mind."

He willed his fingers to move. Up and down his right fingers traced along her swollen lower lips. He couldn't bring himself to look at anything but her eyes, but his fingers explored, feeling how swollen her sex was. Those bastards had really done a fucking number on her.

His first brush against her clit had her bucking almost out of his arms. Tears flooded her eyes and he stopped. She was in pain.

He froze. He didn't want to hurt her.

Her hand came down on top of his, holding his hand in place against her. And then she started grinding her hips. Up, down, in circles, all the while pressing his hand down, making sure to maintain his connection to her body. Each time his digit connected with her clit, she jumped, but then pressed harder.

His instincts took over. He knew how to pleasure a woman. This was no different. He could do this. It wasn't sexual. It was medical.

Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sport.

He pushed down his reservations and let his fingers explore, noting what seemed to hurt her and what brought her pleasure. He tried not to let her heavenly scent get to him. He tried even harder not to let her pleading looks penetrate his heart, but there was no ignoring it. What he was doing was intimate. Sexual.

Several minutes in, he knew there was a problem. Most women receiving his current treatment would have come several times over by now. As more time went on with Allie, two things were happening. She was getting increasingly sore. He could tell his touch was beginning to be more painful for her. Worse, her frustration at being unable to climax brought back her manic gaze.

"Allie, it's the drug. We need to get you back to a hospital."

She shook her head frantically, holding his arm in place and humping up and down.

Zach had held back, afraid to hurt her, but something needed to change.

He moved his left arm that was cradling her up and wound his fingers through her mussed hair, pulling her head forward with a yank at the exact moment he used his right thumb and middle finger to pinch her swollen clit as hard as he could.

He felt her breath on his cheek, they were so close. Her eyes were wide with surprise. "Come for me, Allie. Right now!"

Zach wasn't sure who was more relieved when an enormous orgasm rocked the fragile woman in his arms. It was as if she'd expended every ounce of her energy. She collapsed like a rag doll in his arms. Spent. She closed her eyes and the smallest of smiles played on her lush lips.

Zach was relieved he'd brought her some relief. He took a final minute to cradle her close as he pulled the blanket around her again, returning her modesty as best he could under the conditions before standing and hauling ass in the direction of the rendezvous.

He heard the chopper before he set eyes on it. They'd sent another Huey. It was going to be a bitch to set down in the woods, but he couldn't wait to get in the air so he could better care for Allie.

He took the final quarter mile at a run. The terrain was thinning, and the sun was rising fast. They needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

He was glad to see his friend David 'Rock' Benson running to greet him when he got in sight.

Rock had to shout over the sound of the copter. "I wasn't sure I'd see your ass again, Thunder. Here, give her to me."

Zach was exhausted. He should pass Allie over. He couldn't. "Naw. I've got her. Who'd they send to pick us up?"

"Ben. Be prepared. He seems to think this little incident proves he's the better pilot."

"My ass."

They were almost to the waiting chopper when his commanding officer turned and walked to meet him.

Neither man said a word. If Major thought Zach was going to apologize for not following orders, he'd be sorely disappointed.

"Nice of you to join us. I'm gonna nail your ass to the wall when we get back to base. You could have gotten yourself killed, marine."

"Yes, sir."

"That's all you have to say for yourself? You realize I could have you court-martialed for this little stunt, don't you?"

At those words, Allie started to wriggle in his arms. She must have been conscious enough to be listening to Zach get his ass chewed out by the major.

Peter took his eyes off Zach and pulled the blanket back from Allie's face. He took in her bruised face. Peter pulled the blanket a bit farther. Far enough to see she was naked. Zach saw the anger in his commander's eyes as he looked back at Zach.

He cleared his throat before finally announcing, "Well done, marine. Now get your ass on the chopper. It's time to get the hell out of here."

Zach looked down at Allie, relieved to see a small smile on her face. It was his turn to tell her, "Thanks."