Chapter Four
Even though Cam couldn’t see Harlow, he knew exactly where the guy was—mirroring his position as he rounded out on the source of the shooters and came at them from the side.
His left upper arm ached like he’d caught it on something, but now wasn’t the time to stop and check for injuries. The scrub thinned out, confirming what he thought he’d seen earlier—two soldiers in UEF camos sporadically firing on the position where he’d left the rest of his team.
He pulled his sidearm, making his tread lighter and quieter as he emerged from the forest. On the opposite side of the two men, Harlow appeared, gun trained steady.
“Drop your weapons.” He stopped less than a step behind one of the men and pressed his gun into the back of the guy’s neck.
The soldier immediately complied, while his accomplice started to turn, but then saw Harlow and apparently thought better of it. They both tossed their guns and then held out their hands.
“Good. Turn around slowly.”
The pair complied, both looking thwarted until their gazes landed on him.
“Colonel McAllister, sir!” The one he’d held the gun to appeared equal parts shocked and contrite.
He holstered his sidearm and indicated for Harlow to do the same.
“Sorry, sir, we thought you were hostiles.”
“Understandable,” he replied, shooting them a half grin of reassurance; he wasn’t pissed. They couldn’t have known, considering he and his team were dressed to blend in as locals. “You’re on short-range recon?”
Both the soldiers nodded, relaxing as they lowered their hands. “Yes, sir. Colonel Rashad has several two-man teams out. There’s been a little more unrest along the battlefront than usual.”
Not surprising. Colonel Rashad was good at his job and thorough in keeping intel on both sides of the line up to date.
“Are we likely to run across any more friendly teams in this area? We’re heading northeast.”
If the two men thought anything about the fact that northeast would take them straight into the heart of enemy-held territory, they were trained well enough not to say it aloud.
“No, sir. We’re it for at least a few miles in both directions along the lines. As far as we know, there aren’t any teams operating deeper into CSS territory.”
Stepping over, he picked up the discarded weapons and handed them back to the men. “Would appreciate it if you make like you never saw us.”
“Understood, sir.”
The two soldiers both took a moment to secure their weapons and then saluted him before moving off through the forest, getting back to whatever intel gathering they’d been up to.
Harlow and he made their way back to the team along a more direct path, calling out as they approached so they didn’t get shot at by their own people for a second time that day.
“All clear,” he announced as his other two men came out from the positions they’d taken earlier.
A moment later, Bren and Seb emerged from a little farther back.
The pair of fighter pilots had been slowing them down all day, but no more than he’d expected and compensated for. He’d known bringing the less experienced soldiers along was going to alter their timeline, which was why they’d set out two hours earlier than he’d originally planned.
His men were good, they hadn’t complained or asked why.
And he had to admit, he was impressed so far with both Bren and Seb. It wasn’t easy going, especially for people who weren’t used to the terrain or accustomed to carrying the large heavy packs. That said, they were only half a day into what was going to be a grueling few days. There was still plenty of time for the two squad members to hit a wall or lose their calm.
“Are we ready to keep moving? We’ve got another few miles to put under our boots before nightfall.”
There was a murmur of agreements and shifting as the team got ready to continue the hike. However, Bren came over to him, a frown drawing down her features.
She had a fine sheen of sweat along her hairline and had done a better job of covering all those golden curls than he’d expected. There was also a smear of dirt along one cheek, leaving his fingers twitching with the urge to reach up and brush it off for her. The woman was damned distracting without even trying.
“We can’t stop until we reach the spot I planned to make camp. It’s not safe,” he said, trying to stop an argument before it happened. She had to be feeling it, but they couldn’t afford to break here or anywhere close by. Even staying still for this long was risky. And with the added news the two soldiers had given him about things along the lines being more unsettled than usual, he was anxious to keep them moving.
“No, it’s not that.” She reached up and gripped his elbow in a surprisingly firm hold. There should have been nothing to her touch, but it made his pulse kick up a notch. “You’re bleeding.”
The burn in his left upper arm returned with a vengeance, reminding him he’d thought before he might have caught it on a branch or something. But a glance down revealed nothing of the sort.
He hadn’t caught a branch, he’d caught some ammo. Shit. He was probably lucky his arm hadn’t been blown clear off. Another few inches and he would have been in a very different situation right now.
“It’s fine.” He reached around to the side of his pack and pulled out a field bandage.
Bren took the bandage from his hand before he could so much as start unraveling it.
“It probably will be. But you should get it examined. I assume one of your men has medical experience.”
“Bartlet.”
She flicked the bandage open and tugged his arm into position, pushing him around like nobody’s business. And when exactly had it been decided she was going to take care of this for him? And why the hell did he like it so much?
“Well, then Bartlet needs to assess this. But I’m assuming that’s not going to happen until we make camp tonight.”
“Good instincts, Brenner.”
She glanced up and met his eyes in surprise. Probably because that was the first time he’d ever addressed her as anything other than lieutenant. For a moment, he got caught in the blue depths of her steady gaze.
“If it’s not falling off and I’m not bleeding out, we keep moving,” he continued, trying to make like it was no big deal he’d called her by name. Which it wasn’t. She was just another soldier on this mission. Blond curls notwithstanding.
“Yes, sir,” she muttered, returning her attention to winding the length of the bandage around his upper arm. She tied it off with precision; tight enough to restrict the wound bleeding too much, but not so tight his arm was in danger of losing circulation.
Finished with her ministrations, she shifted back and set her hands on the rifle, bringing it around to rest in front of her.
Though she didn’t look too worse for wear, the morning’s hike had taken a toll on her. The weird urge to take care of her, maybe keep an extra eye on her, dropped into his guts like a stone. She wouldn’t appreciate it and he needed to keep focused, not think about her personal welfare. Except he couldn’t quite let it go. Before she could catch up with the others, he dropped a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.
“You’re doing well, Lieutenant. This isn’t easy terrain, but you’re holding your own. You and Seb. We’ve got to keep up the pace, but you need to tell me if it’s getting too much. No point in pushing yourself past your limits and then not being able to go on in the morning.”
Several expressions crossed her face. Maybe at first surprise that he was reassuring her and then maybe indignation. Obviously, she didn’t like being singled out. But she finished it up with determination, adjusting her pack and setting her shoulders.
“Seb and I will continue keeping the pace, McAllister. You don’t need to worry about us.”
She didn’t like the thought of him and his team compensating for her? Well, she’d be pissed if she found out they’d adjusted their usual pace from the get-go. And still, the pair of them were falling behind. He wasn’t about to call her on it, though. That would just start a fight he didn’t have the energy or inclination for, especially when they were in a vulnerable situation and several hours from the destination secure enough to bunk down for the night.
“Let’s move.” He brushed by her and took up point at the front of his men—the same position he’d held all morning.
The next few hours went by, thankfully, without any more hitches in their plan.
Tomorrow, their destination would be a village rumored to have a rebel group.
For tonight, caves near where the river emerged from underground aqueducts would be the safest place for them to make camp.
The sun was beginning to sink toward the tops of trees. They probably had about an hour of daylight left, which timed perfectly with how far away he estimated the caves were.
They were walking through a sparse stretch of forest where tufts of grasses grew in the places that got enough sunlight. They’d startled a few deer and wild horses, but so far, hadn’t come across any other people. Ilari’s population had suffered in the last two decades, both because of the young and fit being sent off to fight on the front lines, where a lot of them ended up dead, and through poverty, poor nutrition, and ill health. He couldn’t imagine any of the medical facilities offered anything in the way of the latest treatments, considering Ilari had long since stopped trading with the galaxy outside of this small system.
There was a noise behind him—something that was half gasp, half yelp. Not a scream or squeal, but definitely underlaid with surprise and pain.
He swung around and found Bren, knowing without a doubt she’d been the one to make the startled sound. She was looking down, stopped midstride, her body tight with tension.
Had she sprained an ankle? Dammit, they’d been on track to make the caves by nightfall. This could put them behind.
He hurried back to where Seb had joined her, holding her arm, expression pinched as he, too, stared downward.
“What’s wrong?” As he brushed by Harlow, the answer became evident.
She’d stepped into some kind of trap. Not a trap laid by an enemy soldier—he and his team were experienced in spotting those, and they wouldn’t be laid this close to the village and farms where innocent people could stumble into them.
No, this was a trap laid by a hunter; that’s why they’d missed it, because it was rudimentary, obviously homemade, and well concealed near a patch of grass.
He dropped his pack and carefully knelt down next to the snare, examining every inch. It’d sprung closed on her ankle, but as far as he could tell, hadn’t completely closed. It was devised to snap the neck of small game animals or large birds unfortunate enough to stumble upon it. The design was like the ancient bear traps people had once laid on Earth, but without the claws to pierce skin.
Still, if something triggered it again, it had the potential to break bones. It was resting against her sock, just above the top of her boot, and probably not hurting a lot, but her taut, strained expression clued him that she’d come to the same assessment about the possibility of ending with a broken ankle if they didn’t get her out of it.
Seb came down next to him, expression grim.
“How bad is it?” he asked in a low murmur.
“Right now, not bad at all.” And it wouldn’t end that way, as long as he could work out how to get her out of it in one piece.
He spent a few long moments studying how the mechanisms fit together until he was sure he’d worked out where the pressure points were and how it activated.
“Brenner, you need to stay absolutely still. Got it?” He glanced up at her, blue eyes catching his, desperation in the depths of her gaze she was clearly trying to hide.
“I’m not planning to go anywhere, believe me.” She swallowed after she said the words, attention shifting back to the metal pressing against her ankle.
“Theresa, look at me.” Her gaze snapped back to him, just like he’d been hoping, but this time, annoyance banked her expression, while Seb let out a low whistle.
“You did not call me Theresa.”
Okay good, she was sure as hell distracted. Just what he needed. He reached down with slow hands.
“So what if I did? Is that a problem?”
“Do you have a death wish?” Seb asked under his breath. “Because this is going to get you killed.”
“You don’t like your name?” he taunted as he gently wound the release. Unfortunately, the damned thing didn’t seem to have a catch point. Maybe it was busted, or maybe it could only be released once it’d fully sprung. When he turned it, he couldn’t let go because he could feel the pressure ready to spring back in the other direction. “Theresa is a nice name.”
It sounded like she blew out a breath between her teeth.
“Exactly. It’s a nice name. For saints and grandmothers and people who own too many cats.”
He could have laughed at that, and maybe any other time he would have. But not when his hand was cramping trying to fight the pressure of the trap wanting to snap closed, and sweat was beginning to bead along his hairline.
He cast a quick look around and spotted what he needed right away.
“Seb, grab that branch over there.” He nodded his chin just left of where the fighter pilot crouched.
Seb leaned over and dragged it in.
“Jam it in here.” He risked taking one hand off the release cog to show where he meant.
Seb did as he’d asked, though the branch was a little thicker than he’d been hoping, so it took some shoving and bark getting shaved off before he was satisfied. Carefully, he let go of the release, the pressure now on the branch.
“Don’t let go yet,” he told Seb, before he jumped to his feet.
He shifted around Bren until he was facing her, planting his hands tightly on her hips.
“Hold on to me.”
She nodded, anxiety returning to her features as she stared up at him. She set her hands on his shoulders, but then fisted his jacket.
“When I say go, you’re going to yank your foot out and jump toward me, okay?”
Another nod, this one jerky.
For some insane reason, in that moment he hated that he’d told her to cover her curls earlier. He liked it better when they were tumbling free and bouncing around her face. It was crazy, but he wanted to smooth a hand through her hair and reassure her that everything was going to be okay.
Instead, he closed his fingers tighter on her hips. “It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
She blew out an unsteady breath, closing her eyes. He took that as the cue she was ready.
“On my count. One, two— Go!”
He jerked her toward him even as she threw herself against him. The trap closed with a metallic snap and the crack of the branch breaking.
His arms had ended up around her, holding her tightly. He could feel the breath shuddering through her body and the warmth of each ragged exhale through his T-shirt. Her face was buried in his chest while her hands still fisted in his jacket. He gathered her closer, heart thudding like he’d just faced down a bomb, not a simple snare. All he could do was stand there and hold her as sharp relief coursed through him.
Seb was cursing up a storm, examining his hand. He must have caught some splinters when the branch had been jerked out of his grasp.
In his arms, Bren took a deep breath, and he sensed she was gathering herself. He slowly slid his hands to her shoulders and then pulled back to look down at her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, lifting her head at last. When their eyes met, she suddenly seemed to remember whom she was leaning into. She stiffened and unclamped her fingers from his jacket.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She started to take a step back, but nearly went down when the ankle that’d been in the trap didn’t bear her weight.
He caught her arm to stop her from falling, but this time, she shrugged out of his hold, reaching out for Seb instead.
Fine. If she didn’t want his help, he was more than happy to leave her to Rayne.
But before she could hobble off, he knelt to pull up her pants leg and push down her sock.
“There’s some bruising, and it might be sprained, but I’m sure there aren’t any broken bones.” He kept the examination as impersonal as possible. “Do you think you can walk?”
“I’m not going back, if that’s your point.” Her voice was strong and steady, no hint of fear or pain.
He pushed to his feet and put some distance between them. “No. That wasn’t my point. It was exactly what I asked. Can you walk?”
Because if she couldn’t, she was going back whether she liked it or not. They weren’t too far into enemy territory that they couldn’t call in a med-evac. It’d be risky, but not impossible.
“It’s sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, McAllister,” Seb offered.
He sent Rayne a nod, trusting he would be smart enough to make a call if it seemed like the lieutenant couldn’t push on. Yes, she wanted to rescue her fighter pilot, but she wouldn’t be good to anyone if she ended up seriously injured.
“We’re not that far from our campsite. Let’s use the light while we’ve got it.”
As he picked up his own pack, two of his men offered to carry Bren’s pack between them, while Bartlet found a sturdy branch for her to use as a kind of crutch. Their pace was slower, but he was hopeful they’d make the caves not too long after dark. The last thing he wanted was to be negotiating these woods after nightfall. One team member with a busted ankle was enough.