Liberty McCoy’s beaten body lay unmoving—hands cuffed to eye bolts screwed into the wall, ankles tied together, every inch of her filthy and bruised.
Christ. My body swayed and my breath caught. Jesus fuck.
Again I rushed in without a care for the possibility I was walking into a trap or the prospect of unfriendlies in the room.
I was on my knees next to a battered Lieutenant McCoy. I tore my gloves off and pressed my fingers against her throat.
“I have eyes on Hellraiser-one,” I radioed. “Unresponsive, weak pulse,” I called out and lowered my face to hers and waited. “No breath sounds.”
Uncaring her cracked lips were covered in blood, I tilted her head back and gave her two rescue breaths, checking to make sure her chest was rising, and started chest compressions.
Luke was already working to release the cuffs and Trey had joined us, cutting the zip ties at her ankles.
“We have company coming up the mountain,” Matt radioed.
“We can’t move her,” I responded.
“You have three minutes.”
“Come on, breathe, goddamn it.”
Two more rescue breaths and I paused when my gaze caught on the fresh marks that circled her throat.
“Drake, grab her and let’s go.”
I ignored Trey and went back to compressions.
“Drake—”
“Fucking fight, Ranger.”
Three rescue breaths and I lowered my cheek to her mouth—still nothing.
“Move out,” Matt ordered with impatience.
“I’m not moving her until she is breathing,” I told the room as I counted my compressions.
“Goddammit, Liberty, breathe.”
It was as if I commanded it, a barely audible inhale followed by a few more sputtered breaths.
“We’re moving,” Luke announced.
“This is gonna hurt like a son-of-a-bitch,” I warned the lieutenant, as I lifted her into my arms.
Her long, low, painful mew was music to my ears—she was alive.
Thank fuck.
Logan took point leading us back down the hall, Trey took the rear. With the lieutenant in my arms, I was weaponless and had to rely on my team to get us to where we were going.
“You’re out of time,” Matt grumbled. “Plan B.”
Plan B wasn’t a great option—that entailed us walking nearly two miles to an abandoned factory we’d already cleared then booby-trapped to make sure no one entered.
“No.” Liberty suddenly arched her back, but in her weak state it wasn’t more than a slight movement.
“We’re here to take you home, Hellraiser-one.”
“No,” she croaked.
The obvious damage to her larynx pissed me right the fuck off and I hoped that one of the eight men who lay dead in dirt was the one responsible for harming the lieutenant.
My gaze went from the pickup trucks speeding up the dirt road to the woman in my arms. She looked so frail and small, but I knew she was anything but. I heard stories about how fierce Liberty McCoy was. My old teammate and good friend Carter was proud of his cousin and spoke of her often.
I’d only ever seen the lieutenant’s official Army portrait. Carter had talked a lot about her, described her attitude and determination, but this woman was not what I’d imagined. Over the years I’d pictured a tall, muscular woman, something close to a German bodybuilder with thick legs, defined biceps, a manly-woman. But there was nothing manly about Liberty.
Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to open her eyes.
“All you have to do is rest,” I told her.
“We’ve got three more trucks coming in,” Trey announced.
If we didn’t leave right then, we wouldn’t be leaving at all.
“I’m useless,” I reminded Trey. “You take point and get us the fuck out of here.”
My teammate gave me a sharp look conveying just how stupid he thought my reminder was, then started toward the trail that would take us up the side of the mountain. We needed to hustle, the landscape was sparse—there were only a few boulders large enough for us to hunker behind if needed and not enough bushes or trees for us to blend into. As soon as those trucks got into range, we were sitting ducks.
The loose gravel under my boots gave way and I stumbled. My arms tightened and the lieutenant’s low groan of pain pulled my attention down to her face.
I couldn’t stop the wince when my gaze took in the angry welts and bruised flesh.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “As soon as we get over this ridge the terrain evens out.”
The lieutenant’s eyes snapped open and my breath caught in my lungs when her golden eyes locked onto mine. Cat eyes. There was no other way to describe the way the gold gave way to brown the closer you got to her pupils.
Unique.
Beautiful.
Breath stealing.
And pleading.
Before I could further contemplate those unusual orbs, or the fact that the whites of her eyes were not white but bloodshot from being strangled, bullets rang out, slicing past us, kicking up debris as they hit the ground less than a yard away.
“This is gonna hurt. Bear with me.”
I took off in a sprint knowing my team would cover us until I cleared the crest. Every step I took drew another pain-filled moan from Liberty.
“Stick with me, we’re almost there.”
Trey was at my side ready to take out any unfriendlies should one happen to be hiding behind the large rocks as we neared the top.
Gunfire exchanged behind me, our situation was fucked, Liberty was beaten to hell, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those astounding eyes and why the moment she looked at me something deep inside of me roared to life—something possessive and overwhelming.
“You two get gone!” Logan shouted and Trey didn’t miss a beat running full-out with me on his heels.
The steep terrain was a bitch to navigate, and with Liberty cradled in my arms it was ten times harder. I tried my best not to jostle her but her constant grumbles told me I was doing a piss-poor job. But she didn’t utter a complaint.
“Almost at the top. Hang tight.”
I chanced a look down at her face—her cracked lips had fresh blood trickling down her chin. I licked my own and tasted the coopery tang of her blood. There was no use second-guessing my lifesaving measures, I knew I hadn’t been gentle and I’d probably torn open some of the healing cuts, but it was that or let her die. And that was not an option.
The other side of the ridge was a sharp decline. Trey would have no issue traversing the downward slope. But with Liberty in my arms it made negotiating the angle difficult.
I made a last-second decision, one I knew would cause Liberty agony but it was our best and quickest option.
I went down on my ass, taking the brunt of the fall, and started to slide.
“Shit,” she grunted.
“Just hold on.”
Our descent was fucking painful—rocks jabbed my ass and hips as I skidded down the mountain side.
“You’re doing great,” I grunted after she let out a howl of anguish.
A minute later I dug the heels of my boots into the pebbly ground, bringing us to a stop. Liberty’s head lulled to the side and she was dead weight in my arms.
Fucking hell.
“She’s out,” I told Trey who was behind me helping me to my feet.
“Probably for the best. All that knocking around has to be painful as fuck.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t like that she’d lost consciousness.
With a battle raging behind us, I followed Trey down into a rocky valley that would lead us to the factory.
An hour later we were coming up on the building we’d secured last night. The two-mile walk normally would’ve taken us forty minutes at most, but Trey had wisely taken the long way. With my arms full of Liberty I wasn’t exactly the best battle buddy.
“She awake yet?” Trey asked, and I glanced down at t
he woman in my arms.
Thank God, her eyes were still closed because I couldn’t conceal my cringe as I took her in. Nor could I contain my fury. The impulse to kill thrummed through my veins. The urge to exact revenge pulsed through my body the longer I stared at her marred flesh.
I felt powerless. The emotion was foreign and unwelcomed—but overwhelmed me nonetheless.
“Negative,” I finally answered when Trey cleared his throat.
With a sharp jerk of his chin, he knelt in front of the door and cautiously brushed dirt and debris off the thin piece of scrap wood before he gingerly picked it up, exposing the four-inch-deep hole he’d dug.
“It ain’t high-tech but damn if it doesn’t work,” Trey joked as he continued to disengage the cartridge trap he’d set last night.
He wasn’t wrong, there was nothing high-tech about a hole in the ground, a firing pin, and a .308 round. But damn if it wouldn’t blow a hole in your foot if you stepped on it.
The trap wasn’t meant to kill, or Trey, the explosive genius he was, would’ve rigged the building to blow. The only purpose of the primitive device was to ensure no one had entered the building and set IEDs. With this being the only entrance, and the .308 cartridge still intact, we were safe to enter.
Trey pocketed the bullet but still checked the door for a charge.
“Boy Scout,” I jabbed.
“Boy Scout my ass. More like bacon saver.”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, brother, because you have the shittiest comebacks,” I unnecessarily informed him.
Trey’s lame retorts and failed attempts at verbal retaliation made for hours’ worth of fodder.
“Fear not, friend, I’ve never needed a snappy quip to get a woman into my bed. And you can trust and believe they always want to come back.”
“Yeah, you need to work on your delivery, too.”
The banter halted as Trey slowly opened the door. The feeling of worthlessness swamped over me. Normally when we breached, it was all hands on deck and weapons were trained on any possible unfriendlies, but with the lieutenant in my arms I was useless. The alternative would be setting her down and leaving her exposed—and that was not going to happen.
“Where are we?” Liberty slurred and I glanced down to find her awake.
“Hey.” I tried to give her a reassuring smile but damn if it hurt to look at her. “Welcome back. We’re stopping here and waiting for my team to catch up. Then we’ll get you home. You need to sip some water.”
Trey quickly pulled his canteen from his pack and pressed it to Liberty’s lips.
“Ouch,” she protested and he pulled it back.
“Shit. Sorry. Let’s try that again.”
This time Trey tipped the opening to her mouth and poured slowly. Water trickled down her chin washing some of the blood and dirt away, reminding me I needed to get her cleaned up and clothed.
“Lieutenant?” I called when Trey pulled the canteen away after she’d successfully taken a few swallows. “I need to look you over.”
Panic flared in her eyes and she started to shake her head.
“I’ll be gentle, but I have to clean some of these cuts.”
“I don’t…” Her scratchy voice made me want to kill someone. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I told her as I surveyed the room.
“Nothing’s broken.”
Fucking hell, she needed to stop speaking. Every time I heard her scratchy voice, disgust and anger swirled together making my head throb.
I found a fifty-five gallon drum and set Liberty down.
“Sorry it’s dirty,” I mumbled.
“Right, because I’m so clean.”
Once I had Liberty settled, Trey handed me a canteen before he produced a second one and started sprinkling water over her feet.
This was the first time I’d had more than just a moment to take in her injuries and there were many. So many, I didn’t know where to start. Bruises of all shapes and colors—some fresh, some in various stages of healing.
“You did good, Ranger,” I croaked, unable to hide the fury in my tone.
“Don’t look at me with…” She trailed off and tried to clear her throat.
The movement brought my eyes back to her neck and the swollen flesh circling the long, delicate column of her throat.
Son of a bitch.
“Look at you with what? Respect? You’re fuckin’ tough, that’s for damn sure.”
“My team?” she asked.
I didn’t want to tell her, not now, not when she was vulnerable and raw, but I wouldn’t insult her by dodging her question.
I gave my head a shake in the negative and her bloodshot eyes closed. She took a moment to compose herself before she asked, “Anyone?”
I knew she was inquiring about survivors so I gave her another swift head shake and moved on.
“I’m gonna clean your face while Trey’s finishing with your feet. After that, I’ll check your back.”
“What’s your name?”
I couldn’t help it, I chuckled. Here I’d given her mouth-to-mouth, carried her damn near two miles, and told her she’d lost her entire team, and I hadn’t introduced myself.
In my defense, when my team rescues a hostage there are no introductions. We were typically masked, used call signs instead of our real names, and we didn’t make small talk. Our job was to secure the package, deliver it safely, and leave with our identities safely concealed.
But the rescue of Lieutenant McCoy was anything but typical, and in an effort to keep emotions in check and detached, I dismissed giving her my name. I wanted the distance the uniform code of military justice could provide.
Fraternization between officers and enlisted was strictly prohibited and by my reaction to Liberty I was glad for it. Frankly, I needed a reminder when everything inside of me was telling me that this woman in my arms was more than an Army Ranger we’d been sent in to save.
“Master Chief Hayes,” I answered.
Trey chuckled, then he started in with the jabs. “How long have you been waiting to finally introduce yourself as master chief?” He shook his head then continued. “Don’t let him fool you, Lieutenant, he just passed his E-9 test a month ago. Drake’s like a baby master chief. I’m Trey.”
“Drake?” she asked.
“That’s my name.”
“Like the duck?”
Trey roared with laughter, his hands shook with hilarity as he splashed water over Liberty’s ankles and calves.
“Let’s just announce our location,” I scowled. “It’s not like every fucking household doesn’t have a rocket launcher or anything.”
My sarcasm was met with a soft, husky laugh and I wondered what Liberty sounded like when her windpipe and vocal cords weren’t crushed and damaged.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She was not Liberty—she was Lieutenant McCoy.
5
Every. Single. Part. Of me was in agony.
There wasn’t an inch that didn’t ache or hurt.
But somehow, I was alive. I’d take the pain over death any day.
“How’d you find me?” I asked and regretted each word that came from my sore throat.
“How ‘bout you let me finish washing your face, then we’ll talk,” Drake told me.
No, he’s Master Chief Hayes.
I knew why I was feeling emotionally connected to the man—his had been the first friendly face I’d seen in weeks. He was the first person I saw after I thought my life was over. That was all this was—hero worship. He’d saved my life and now I was clinging to him. Actually, I wasn’t clinging to anything, he was holding me together. If it wasn’t for the master chief I would’ve already come apart. But there was something about his deep voice that settled me.
He dabbed the wet corner of a t-shirt against the corner of my mouth and I tried not to wince. I didn’t know what was worse, the man named Trey picking rocks out of the bottom of my feet or the cloth abrading my
lips.
“Sorry, Lieutenant.”
“Please, call me Liberty.” Something flashed in Drake’s eyes and I went on to painfully explain, “I just need… To feel human.”
I wasn’t sure what cost me more, speaking or admitting weakness.
“All right, Liberty. I’m almost done.”
I don’t know why hearing him call me by name made me feel like I’d won something big, but I sensed I had.
Suddenly Trey stood and the rifle that had been hanging by a sling at his side was now up and pointed in the direction of the door. Drake stepped in front of me, and in one fluid motion he pulled a Sig from his thigh rig and took aim.
Three sharp whistles rang out followed by a longish one and Trey relaxed as the door opened and three men came into view looking tired and worn.
“We’re good,” one of them said as he entered.
“Sorry it took so long. We went two miles to the east before we double backed,” a second man added.
“Lieutenant,” the third greeted with a lift of his chin. “Good to see you.”
“Good to be seen,” I croaked out, my voice sounding like a frog had taken up residence in my throat.
“This is Logan, Matt, and Luke,” Trey introduced, pointing to each one as he said their names. Something I completely missed because it hurt too badly to shift my focus that quickly.
Drake settled and picked up the t-shirt he’d placed on my lap, and went back to gently wiping the blood and dirt off my face and neck, reminding me of my state of undress.
Something I would’ve been embarrassed of if I wasn’t so happy to be alive.
What I wouldn’t give to have my uniform.
“How’s she doin’?” one of the guys asked.
“Her feet are torn to shit,” Trey answered.
“Anything broken?” the man continued.
“Miraculously, no,” Drake told them.
He’d done a thorough check of my limbs and to his shock I was able to move everything, albeit painfully.
“Sexual assault?” The blunt question had me involuntarily stiffening.
Drake’s body had gone solid and I felt his gaze burning into my skin. That was just about the only question he hadn’t asked when going over my injuries. Though he also hadn’t asked what kind of torture I’d endured, he kept his questions mostly about pain level and if I had any signs of infection.
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 3