by Pamela Clare
“What’s going on?” she demanded, half turned in her seat so she could see the safe house behind them a block and a half down the street. The neighbors had been talking to Gage and Ellis a minute ago, then they’d bolted back into their garage and closed the door like a rabid animal was chasing them. Gage and Ellis had disappeared into the backyard. Now Gage had come back around the front of the house, only this time she could tell from the position of his arms that he was holding a pistol in his hands.
What the hell? “Did they find something?” Her heart rate accelerated. If Gage was in any danger, she wanted backup for him at least.
“We’re not sure yet. Apparently there was somebody there earlier posing as a landscaper.” He gave her the description and he didn’t have to spell it out for her: they thought it might be Mostaffa. Her skin prickled in alarm.
“Gage is going in to check the place out just to make sure it’s secure before we clear out our stuff and find a new location to set up in.”
He sounded so calm and it pissed her off. Gage was going in there alone with his freaking weapon drawn. Shouldn’t Hunter be out there to help? “If you want to go back him up, I’m okay here by myself.”
He made a negative sound. “Ellis has his back. They don’t need me. We’ll just sit tight for the time being.”
She hated that he could hear everything the others said via his earpiece while she was left in the dark. Swiveling around to glare at him, she realized he was keeping careful watch on the place via the side and rearview mirrors. Not wanting to disturb his concentration, she forced herself to take a deep breath and sit still. Her gaze strayed from the view in the side mirror out her window to the street and the occasional car that passed by them. None of the drivers remotely resembled Mostaffa and she began to relax slightly.
Then she noticed a silver minivan. Claire focused on it instantly, squinting to make out the driver more clearly as it approached. A man, wearing a ball cap. Hunter’s gaze was turned away from it, his attention riveted on what was happening at the house. The van came closer, revealing the driver’s face and the Yankees symbol on the front of his hat.
A wave of cold crashed over her, turning her blood to ice. “Hunter.”
He snapped his head around, followed her gaze just as the van passed them. “Fuck.”
Before she could move, Hunt put the SUV into gear and wheeled it around to follow the van, tires screeching. A block ahead of them, the van slowed.
“Get in the back and stay down,” he ordered as he hit the gas and gunned it.
Claire unbuckled her seatbelt and dove into the backseat. Hunter was already on the radio to the others. “Gage, come in—”
He’d barely gotten the words out when an explosive roar split the air.
A scream lodged in Claire’s throat at the deafening noise. Hunter hammered the brakes. Claire slid across the slick leather surface to slam into the backrest of the front seat as the concussive force of the blast shook the big vehicle. Cracks appeared in the windows in spider web patterns. Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard Hunter swear and start rattling off orders to whoever he was talking to. Car alarms were going off everywhere around them, set off by the force of the blast.
Gage! She got to her hands and knees, raised her head and risked a look at the safe house, terrified of what she’d find.
From all the way back here she could see the column of black smoke boiling into the sky from the front of the house. The front door appeared to be lying on the lawn, torn right off its hinges. The windows were blown out and a sheet of flame burned inside the lower floor windows.
“No, oh my God, no,” she cried, lunging for the door handle with shaky hands. She yanked on it, discovered it was locked and fumbled with the lock. Through the SUV’s fractured windshield she saw the silver minivan was long gone.
Hunter yanked out his earpiece and snatched up the walkie talkie on the console, drawing his weapon with his free hand as he shot out the driver’s side door. “Give me status,” he barked.
Claire dove into the front seat to grab at her purse on the passenger floorboard. She was frantically digging her pistol out when she clearly heard Ellis’s voice respond a moment later, and his response stopped her heart in her chest.
“Gage is down.”
Chapter Twelve
Claire shoved the passenger door open so fast she practically face planted onto the asphalt as she fell out of the vehicle. Desperate to get to Gage, she scrambled to her feet and took off running toward the burning safe house, gun in hand. Her heart stuttered when she saw Ellis carrying him across the street over one broad shoulder to set him down on the lawn, but she didn’t slow. All she could see was the blood on his face and upper body and it filled her with terror that it was taking so long to get to him.
“Gage,” she cried, his name torn from her throat, her legs like rubber as she flew along the sidewalk. People were coming out of their homes to gawk at what was happening, talking on or snapping pictures with their cell phones. Ellis was hunkered next to Gage’s supine body with his fingers beneath his chin and Claire realized he was looking for a pulse. A hot rush of tears flooded her eyes and her legs almost gave out. He couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t survive that. Didn’t want to.
Ahead of her, Hunter charged over and knelt beside them, blocking her view of Gage. Panic flared, hot and sharp. She raced past onlookers and over someone’s lawn, heedless of the plants she trampled. Reaching them at last, she dropped her weapon, skidded to her knees beside Gage and scanned his body. The damage she saw sucked the air from her lungs in an anguished cry. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror.
“He’s alive,” Hunter told her firmly, all his focus on Gage as he and Ellis checked him over.
She blinked the tears away and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, afraid to touch him or get in their way. Blood trickled out of his nose, mouth and eyes. The left side of his face was reddened, the cheek raw, singed by the heat of the blast. But his chest was still going up and down and that reassured her.
Swallowing her fear, she found her voice. “Gage. Gage, can you hear me?” He seemed barely conscious, his breath coming in broken gasps. His eyes cracked open a bit and she leaned over him, desperate to get him to look at her. She cupped the uninjured side of his face, hoping her touch and voice could anchor and soothe him. “Baby, I’m here, I’m right here. Can you hear me?”
In answer he shifted, tried to move but both Ellis and Hunter restrained him. She could see he was gasping, struggling for air.
“He can’t breathe,” she cried, but Ellis and Hunter had already seen that and were rolling him to his side into the recovery position. She reached for his shoulders, not knowing how to help him aside from what his teammates were already doing.
Ellis gripped the neckline of the scorched shirt, ripped it down the center and pulled it away, exposing Gage’s blood-streaked chest. He swept Gage’s mouth with a finger to try and clear his airway, but Gage continued struggling to breathe. He flailed one hand out weakly to push Ellis’s fingers away. Claire moved in to cradle his head in her hands, feeling utterly helpless. She dimly heard Hunter talking on the phone in the background, giving medical information to someone and realized he’d called 911. Her eyes tracked each jerky rise and fall of Gage’s chest, ready to pounce on him and do compressions if he quit breathing.
“His vitals are good,” Ellis said to her as he checked some of the puncture wounds on Gage’s skin. They were scattered across his arms and torso, all trickling blood. How far in had they penetrated? Had something hit his lungs? “I know his breathing sounds bad, but his color’s okay. He’s still getting enough air.”
The words took the barest edge off the sharp panic swirling inside her. Her heart pounded sickeningly against her ribs. “What about his head?” Was it cracked? Did he have brain damage?
“He got thrown onto the grass, so he was lucky there.” Ellis reached down to pry Gage’s eyelids open, one at a time. “Pupils are respond
ing. So far, so good.”
It didn’t look good from where she was sitting. Aside from that feeble attempt to push Ellis away, Gage was still mostly unresponsive. She had to stay calm. Hunter had called for help and people up and down the street must have too after the blast. It was just that everything was taking too goddamn long.
A black duffel bag dropped to the grass next to her. She blinked up at Hunter. He kneeled and started emptying the medical supplies inside it.
“Hold this,” he told her, handing over a thick wad of gauze bandages. Grateful for something to do other than panic, she took it and gingerly dabbed it against the raw spots on Gage’s face. His eyelids flickered. He made an unintelligible sound and tried to sit up.
“No, stay still,” she said quickly, setting a hand on his shoulder where she was pretty sure it wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t listen. Just set a hand on the ground and tried to push up. “Gage, no. You’re hurt. Please just stay still.” She was terrified his lungs would stop working if he shifted too much. There might be internal damage they couldn’t see.
“You’re gonna be okay, man, but listen to Claire and lie still,” Ellis said and set a hand on Gage’s sternum to keep him down. “Paramedics are on the way.”
Gage made an irritated growling sound and obstinately pushed up onto his right hip despite all of them telling him not to move.
“Jesus Christ he’s a stubborn son of a bitch,” Hunter muttered, reaching out to steady Gage, clearly recognizing that he had no intention of lying down. Claire moved in behind him to bolster his upper body but he swatted a hand at Hunter and gave him a menacing scowl.
“Glare all you want, you hard-headed bastard, you just got blown all to hell in that explosion,” Hunter fired back.
Gage shook his head as though to clear it and wiped at his eyes, ignoring all of them. “I’m good,” he wheezed and at the sound of his voice Claire closed her eyes for a second as relief slammed into her. “I’m good, lemme up.”
Hunter and Ellis exchanged an uncertain look and finally eased back a little. Gage propped himself up on one elbow and managed to get to one knee.
“Seriously?” Claire demanded, growing frantic. “You guys are gonna let him get up?”
“He’ll either get up or drop trying,” Hunter said, his tone filled with a grudging respect that Claire couldn’t appreciate at the moment. “Better to get out of his way and see how he does.”
This was ridiculous. The man had just been blown up five minutes ago, he couldn’t possibly be strong enough to get up. “Gage, stop that.” Of course he didn’t listen. “What about internal injuries?” she snapped at the other two.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Hunter muttered, pushing to his feet. The wail of distant sirens broke the stillness and Claire felt a small measure of relief. Maybe the paramedics could strap him down to a gurney until they were sure he wasn’t going to kill himself by moving around like this. Or better yet, tranquilize him so moving wasn’t even an option.
Gage was doggedly up on one knee now, still sucking in air. He was bleeding from dozens of little gashes across his chest, probably from flying glass and other debris, and she could already see bruises forming beneath his skin. God, he was a total mess. The burns on his face looked painful and had to hurt like hell. Why wouldn’t he just lie down? He managed to get both feet underneath him, though he wobbled a bit. Claire automatically shot out a hand to grab his upper arm and for a moment she was sure he would shake her off like an angry dog but instead he turned his head and looked straight into her eyes.
“I’m all right,” he gasped out, loudly, though the effort of speaking clearly cost him. He was pale, way too pale for her liking.
“You’re not all right,” she snapped, on the verge of tears again. “Your fucking ears are bleeding.”
He frowned and stared at her mouth and she realized he couldn’t understand her because he couldn’t hear her. The explosion must have blown his eardrums, which would explain the blood coming out of his ears. She shook her head at him sadly, some part of her admiring his toughness despite herself, while the other part wanted to strangle his stupid alpha male ass. “Your ears,” she shouted, pointing. “Bleeding.”
He swiped at his nose and ears, looked away like it was no big deal and did a visual sweep of Ellis. “You okay?” Ever the Team Daddy, always thinking of his guys, even in his current state.
Ellis shook his head in exasperation. “I’m fine, you stubborn prick. Now lay your ass down and let us take care of you.”
Gage just shook his head, his bloodstained lips thinned in that unmistakable flat line that meant he’d never give in.
God. Claire stepped around in front of him to get his attention and set her hands on either side of his head, taking in the battered and scalded state of his face. She was so grateful he was alive, but scared out of her mind about how badly he was injured. “We don’t know how bad you’re banged up inside. Please stay still until the paramedics can check you. For me, Gage. Please?”
He reached one hand up to curl around her wrist in a gentle grip she was sure he meant to be reassuring and shook his head. “Eardrums are shot…my chest is tight but I’m…okay otherwise. Promise.”
She stared at him, wanting to shake some sense into him. How could he promise something like that? “If you hurt yourself worse because of this, so help me, Gage—” She cut herself off before she could finish that thought and let her hands drop, swallowing the tears in her throat. God, she was shaky as hell, wanted nothing more than to curl around him, protect him and ease the pain he was so intent on hiding. She also knew he’d never let her do it. Not with his guys around and the danger still looming. Mostaffa had taken off in the minivan somewhere but he had to be close by unless he’d ditched it and stolen another vehicle.
Bending to rummage through the medical supplies, she came up with another bandage and started wiping at the blood drying beneath his eyes, nose and mouth. God, it made her feel sick to know he’d almost been killed a few minutes ago. Her hands shook as she did her best to clean him up.
At a gentle touch beneath her chin, she glanced up. Gage was watching her, his blue eyes filled with understanding and tenderness. Yes, tenderness, even though he was the one bleeding all over and in pain he’d never admit to. “It’s fine,” he said.
She swallowed and looked away from his gaze, struggling to hold it together. More than anything she wanted to hug him, feel his arms around her to reassure her he really was okay, but there was no way to do that without hurting him. “No it’s not,” she whispered, aware that he couldn’t hear her.
Hunter spoke to her. “Emergency crews are almost here. You okay alone with him for a bit? We’re gonna go secure the perimeter before the cops get here,” he said in a loud enough voice that Gage would hear. “Claire and I saw Mostaffa drive by just before the bomb went off.”
“Plate number?” Gage got out, pausing to gasp for a second. Claire wanted to scream at him. He shouldn’t be worrying about any of that right now.
“Only a partial,” Hunter answered. “He must’ve remote detonated it when he saw you by the door.”
“Fucker,” Gage snarled, hands curling into fists. The veins in his neck seemed to be standing out and his color wasn’t right, pale from shock and pain and hopefully nothing more serious.
“You guys wait here,” Hunter said to Claire, handing Gage the pistol Claire had dumped on the grass before he and Ellis took off across the street. Even in this state she knew Gage would defend her to the last if Mostaffa or anyone else attacked. Sighing, she looked away from him and realized for the first time that a large crowd of onlookers had gathered on the sidewalk in front of them, everyone gawking at the burning house and Gage.
She slipped her hand into his and held on tight and he squeezed back, bending over a little to ease his breathing as he watched Hunter’s and Ellis’s progress across the street. She could feel the heat of the fire all the way over here and the acrid tang of smoke filled the air. Gag
e’s big body was tense, the shakes already lessening, and for one moment she thought he was determined to go after them. Claire opened her mouth to yell at him, ready to tackle him if he dared try it.
Thankfully he didn’t, instead staying beside her with the gun in his hand and it suddenly dawned on her that he wasn’t staying put because of his injuries; he was staying put and wouldn’t leave her side because as far as he was concerned the threat wasn’t over yet. He was on full alert, still guarding her in spite of what had just happened to him. God dammit, he was going to make her cry again. She held his hand and ran her free one up and down his back, wishing there was something she could do to help.
Ellis and Hunter were across the street directing the crowd back from the safe house and doing an initial sweep of the property when the first responders finally arrived. Police cruisers roared up and cops swarmed the area. One officer came over to her and Gage to help and she filled him in on what had happened and explained that they were working for the NSA, while others talked with Hunter and Ellis and worked to get all the bystanders back to a safe distance in case another device went off. Gage’s ID was in his wallet but hers was back in her purse, on the floorboard of the SUV she’d been in with Hunter.
When the ambulance arrived Gage was none too pleased about being herded toward it but she and the cop assisting her gave him no choice. He flat out refused to get on a gurney though, and stubbornly sat on the tailgate while the paramedics checked him over. She stood back a ways with the officer and overheard one of the medics say something about a chest tube.
The cop shook his head, eyeing Gage in a kind of awe. “What branch did he serve in?”
Claire expelled a long breath. “Army.”
He gave her a cynical look. “No way he’s regular Army.”
“Nope, no way,” she agreed, not caring to elaborate though with his shirt off the cop must have been able to see the SF tattoo on Gage’s arm.