Squeezing the trigger was never hard for Welsh. He’d done it many times, and each pull was a mechanical study of his training. Breathe, hold, pull, release. He did it in rapid succession, using a three-round burst to take down each enemy. The rebels swarmed them in the hall, scenting blood, and Welsh popped each one as they rounded the corner, never giving them the chance to get close.
But this time was different.
Rose was tucked against his chest, jumping when he fired, curling her fists into his flak jacket. His job was to take lives, and hers was to save them. For the first time, he wished he didn’t have blood on his hands. It allowed him to save her now, so he didn’t regret it, but the difference in their jobs stuck out in blood and decay.
The rebels, clad in camouflage and holding machine guns, dropped like flies, but more came. He couldn’t hold this position long and wait for a connection with his team. They needed to move or he and Rose would be pinned down and facing death.
“When I say run, I need to you to race to the end of the hall. See that window? We’re going through it,” Welsh told Rose.
“We’re one the second floor!”
“Window or bullet. Not really much of a choice. Rather have a broken leg than a cracked skull. Move!”
Welsh pushed Rose, knowing she was scared but not having time to baby her. He had extra clips, but those would run out soon enough. He needed to get her out and to safety. Pure and fucking simple. He steadied and sent several more bursts of shots at the rebels before he turned and raced after Rose’s retreating form. The window grew with each step, and Welsh kept his body right behind her to block any wayward bullets from striking her. He caught her at the window and wrapped his arms around her, jumping just as a bullet clipped his shoulder.
“Dammit.”
Glass shattered and then he only felt air on his face. The scent of gunpowder, dirt, and blood mixed in the air, and he hated it. He knew Rose wouldn’t forget that smell, and she never should have had it touch her. He curved around her body, turning them in the air and angling his weapon toward the fast-retreating window. It wasn’t the best defensible position, but he could at least shoot anyone who appeared.
“Wel … sh. Co … in.”
“Tex?” Welsh asked, but the ground was too close. He curled and took the ground hard. The jar was enough to send his teeth clicking together, and he rolled at the end, pulling Rose with him. His back screamed, and he had to blink a few times to clear his head, but he’d gotten them out.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he prompted. He’d rolled them behind a mass of rubble that had once been the gate to the dormitory.
“I’m fine. Abrasions, some bruising, and I’m probably going to faint when the adrenaline wears off, but I’m good now.”
“Have you ever shot a gun?” he asked.
Rose shook her head. Her pupils were large, and he knew the slight tremor to her hands was from shock. He didn’t have long before she crashed. “I don’t touch guns. I can’t.”
He sighed and pressed the button on his mic. “Big Boss? Tex?” He needed backup, and he needed it now.
“Astayqiz.”
Rose froze, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression stuck on her face as she stared behind him. Not good.
“Grab her. Big Boss is in position,” Tex said over the mic.
Welsh didn’t argue. He leaned forward and took Rose in his arms, shielding her face from what was coming.
It was silent, no sound cracking the air. Just a body crumpling to the ground. Welsh looked over to find the rebel, dead, with half his head missing. Wherever Big Boss had taken the shot from, he’d done it with precision.
“The connection between the team has been blocked, and everyone has been separated. I got in through the back channel, but I can’t link you,” Tex explained.
“Where are they?” Welsh asked. Knowing they couldn’t risk staying out in the open, he gripped Rose to his side and hustled her toward the nearest Humvee. At least she’d be protected from direct shots, and he’d be more mobile.
“The ambulance. What if I need to triage?” Rose argued.
Not a bad idea. He raced with her from crop to crop until he got her to the armored ambulance and into the back.
“Where’s my team, Tex?” Welsh asked again.
“You’re not going to like the answer.”
“I’m sure I won’t. But I’m still gonna bring hell down on whoever did this.”