Yeah, she was hurt, maybe a concussion. But she'd been hurt worse back then and still had rescued herself and a bunch of other women from the slavers.
"Rainier's a pussy." Miller squeezed her arm until she bit her lip to keep from giving the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. He liked to hear her cry out, it had made him even more vicious. "He comes to find you, he gets my Ka-Bar in his gut."
"Wh-where are w-we going?" She coughed as the winds blew the smoke into the ravine. "You tr-trying to get us b-burned to a crisp?" She glanced to the west. The fire had crested the top of the western ridge. Embers were flying around. She winced as one burned her cheek.
If Miller didn't kill her first, she could easily be overcome by the smoke. Fucker had taken her mask. At least she had her goggles and her eyes were protected from the smoke and embers.
One thing she knew. Only one of them would be walking away breathing this time. That is, if the fire didn't get them both first. She could almost hear the thunderous roar of the flames as the wind whipped them up and the fire ingested every bit of combustible fuel. Sparks danced on the wind, bringing destruction and death to any living thing in their way.
"No way I'm letting you burn. I want some time with you, bitch. I planned it out while I rotted in a cell." Miller stopped, then grabbed her braid and jerked her face toward him. He pushed his mask down and ground his lips against her bruised and bloody ones.
She bit him, drawing blood which she spit in his face.
Not smart, Tara.
Yeah, but she couldn't stand him kissing her.
"Fucking cunt." He punched her in the stomach, then pushed his mask back into place.
She moaned then coughed, hard enough to hack up a lung. She'd tensed just enough that her core muscles protected her from being hurt worse. Still, she'd take a punch to the stomach over his kisses any day.
"Enough messing around. I've been hard for days." He rubbed his erection against her hip, then gripped her elbow and moved them along.
Swirling embers started small fires all around them. Following the fire line that had been cut, Miller pulled her through the thick smoke and the orange flames burning right up to the line on each side.
The heat was unbearable. Every breath scorched her throat and her nasal passages, forcing her to take more and more shallow breaths. Sweat dripped down her body under her Nomex pants and fire jacket. So far the fire-retardant clothing was doing the job. But she was in danger of severe dehydration, thermal injury to her sinuses and trachea, and smoke inhalation. A combination of any two would kill her. Oddly enough, her hair and exposed skin had escaped serious damage so far, but she couldn't count on that for long.
Tara couldn't wait for Price to get to her. The main fire was coming from the west and the spot fires on the eastern side of the fire line were joining into a large fire of their own. She needed to make a move and soon, before the fire swept over them or they got to whatever safe area Miller thought he'd found.
With her arms restrained behind her, she still had her legs. She could do a lot of damage with her legs, but she needed level ground for the moves she wanted to use. She plotted it out in her head. First, take Miller down hard and fast. Second, find a sharp rock to get her bindings off. And third, find a safe place. All doable, but it had to be soon, because she was getting weaker with each breath of smoke and each step they took.
"I found us a nice cave, deep and dark with flowing water. We can ride out the fire and get reacquainted—before I kill you."
That could work, if she could find it. The area was riddled with caves. She had a chance of finding one, and if she couldn't, she had her pack still strapped to her back with her fire shelter still inside.
"Too bad my brothers didn't get to you before the Feds did," she coughed, "the LEOs would've never found your body."
"Your brothers are pussies." Miller sneered as he dragged her over the uneven ground of the fire line. The grip on her arm dug into her muscles and her nerves screamed with so much pain that flashes of light streaked through her vision. "So, what's up with the guy you're shacking up with? Can you even fuck him, Tara? After all we did together? How perfectly matched we were?"
She couldn't help herself, she gagged. He laughed.
"Yes, you remember everything I did to you. Do you think about me when he's putting his cock in you? Goddamn, you were the fucking tightest and creamiest cunt I ever had. I'm looking forward to feeling you around me again." He glanced to the side. "Do you still have the scars I put on your breasts?"
Tara choked and swallowed bile at the memory of how he'd slowly and meticulously sliced her breasts and afterward pounded his cock into her restrained body.
No, she wasn't going there. Instead she remembered how Price kissed and tongued each scar, telling her how beautiful she was, and then gave her orgasm after orgasm before making love to her with his cock. Then he held her in his arms, guarding her sleep.
Price was everything.
Miller was nothing. She couldn't wait to show him how meaningless he really was.
"Fucking answer me, bitch." He jerked her to face him.
The world was ready to flame over around them and he was pulling her to a stop?
He shook her, one-handed, waving his knife over her chest area. "Do I need to make new scars? Carve my initials on them again?"
Miller was stark-raving crazy. She stared at him. Silent. Waiting to see what insane thing he'd say or do next. And always, she watched, hoping he'd give her a chance to disable him. He might want to burn to a crisp, but she didn't.
"Fuck. I'll just see." He used his knife to cut her jacket and the two layers of shirts under it down the middle. The sharp edge of the blade caught her skin. The blood flowing down her front felt hot on her sweaty skin.
With his focus on her breasts, she headbutted him. He yelled and grabbed his head with the hand he'd held her with, then swiped out at her with the knife.
But she'd already scrambled back, out of range of his knife. Using her long legs, she kicked him in the gut, then swept her leg up and kicked him in the side of the head.
His grunt of pain made her feel good, giving her a much-needed spurt of energy. She went after him, kicking out at his knees, his crotch, his head. She drove him back, but then when she pivoted to send another kick to his head, she stepped into a hole and went down.
Miller was on her like a rabid animal. He put his hands around her throat and choked her. She wiggled and bucked, but she was on her back, lying on her hands, and nothing she could do, got him off her. She couldn't breathe and as she slipped into the darkness that would lead to her death, she mouthed, "Price."
*
Even with the mask and its smoke filter, Price could smell and taste the smoke. He smelled his sweat as the fires now raging on each side of the fire line superheated the air. So far his fire gear was holding up.
He checked again for Tara's tracker location. He was closing in. She wasn't moving.
After he'd found her helmet and communications headset on the riverbank, the need to find her had overwhelmed him. She was out in this inferno without all her safety gear.
Price.
Tara? That was her voice—in his head—weak, filled with love and sorrow. Was she dying?
"No, fuck no." Price sped up until he was running over the uneven ground. Tara needed him now. No way was she dying. He'd sprout fucking wings and fly to her if he had to.
With his gun in one hand, he clicked his headset with his other hand. "Tweeter. Do you have our signals?"
"Yeah. You're closing in on her. Ren has authorized DJ and Vanko to come in and pull you out. Just say the word."
"No. It's hell on earth here. Not safe for any of our choppers." Price looked around and all he saw were slopes on fire. The fire line was navigable, but the environment was too dangerous for anything living. "I need a place to ride this firestorm out. Find me something. I'll get back to you when I have Tara. Out."
He glanced at his sat phone screen. Their
two signals were right on top of each other. Fighting the urge to rush to Tara and into an unknown situation, he forced himself to slow down and approach more cautiously.
Slipping his phone into a zippered pocket inside the fire-retardant jacket, he led with his gun in a firm, two-handed grip.
When he turned a sharp corner, he found her. She was on the ground, a man on top of her, choking her. Rage threatened his control. But his training and the need to keep Tara alive helped Price keep a cooler head. He had no shot. The bullets he used would go through the asshole and into Tara. A knife lay on the ground near the man's hand. The fucker could kill Tara before Price was even on him.
"Miller!" Price shouted, hoping the surprise would have Miller making a wrong move. All Price needed was one clear shot that wouldn't also go into Tara.
"You!" Miller let go of Tara's throat and went for the knife. "I'll kill her."
Price shot at the knife, sending it away from Miller and Tara.
Miller turned toward Price, pulling something from inside his jacket. He'd moved just far enough away from Tara's head.
Price took the shot even as Miller shot his weapon. But Price had anticipated the other man's move and dove to the side as he took his shot. Price's bullet entered Miller's head on the side nearest Tara; the exit wound would be away from her. Yeah, he'd gambled, but between the SEALs and SSI, he had more practice at taking down an enemy than Miller.
Miller dropped, his body half-covering Tara.
Price kicked Miller's gun into the rocks at the side of the fire line, then dragged Miller off Tara. He dropped to his knees and searched for her pulse. The bruises on her throat made him sick. He shouldn't have waited the ten minutes. He was never letting her out of his sight again.
His pulse pounded in his ears and his fingers were shaking. He was a fucking sniper—his fingers never shook. If she had a pulse, he wasn't finding it. She was too still. Too pale. Then she coughed, weakly, but it meant she was alive.
"Thank fuck." Tears filled his eyes. He dragged his mask off and placed it on her. What she really needed was oxygen, but that wasn't possible now.
Coughing, he pulled off Miller's blood-spattered mask and put it on. No way he'd let anything of Miller's touch her.
"Tara." He shook her, but she didn't respond. He felt her neck, her ribs, and her limbs, checking for breaks. It was a quick and dirty exam, but he was fairly certain she didn't have any broken bones. He cut off the zip ties and winced at her bloody and bruised wrists.
"Okay, baby, gonna carry you." He lifted her then put her in a fireman's carry over his shoulders. Holding her legs, he tapped his headset. "I've got her. She's unconscious and beat up, but alive. Find me a safe place, buddy."
"I sent it to your phone."
Price pulled his phone out and checked the screen.
"You should see it, a blinking yellow light," Tweeter said. "It's a cave system and it looks deep. It's even on the Forest Service map. One of the river tributaries goes underground there."
"I've got it. Thanks. Price, out."
Even carrying Tara, her pack, and his pack, he began a ground-eating jog, just fast enough to get them to safety, but not so fast that he'd trip. Digging into reserves and using the same sheer stubbornness that had seen him through Hell Week, he kicked it up another notch as the signal indicated they were almost on top of the cave.
"Fuck, yeah." The cave was just off the fire line. The Smokey Bears had cleared line all the way to the gate that was padlocked.
Price eased Tara to the ground, then took out his gun and shot the padlock. He pulled the broken lock off and opened the metal gate. Picking a too-limp Tara into his arms, he carried her inside, put her on the ground, and turned to pull the gate shut and used some zip ties to secure it. He didn't want any large animals following him and Tara inside.
The cave opening was filled with the orange glow radiating from the fire. The heat was still oppressive. The rock walls were super-heated.
The roar of the firestorm outside the cave was as loud as a jet plane. They'd made it in time. But they still needed to go farther down into the cave, away from the heat and smoke.
Picking Tara up, she moaned.
"Shh, sweetheart. I've got you." He kissed her forehead. Her face was so bruised on one side, he was afraid she might have a broken jaw. He wished he could kill the bastard again. "We're in a cave. Going to find a cooler place to rest."
He turned on the light on his helmet and found that the cave had one main tunnel and it led into inky darkness. Hell, he'd go until he could no longer feel the intense heat, then they'd make camp. He had water and the emergency supplies his little firefly had insisted all the SSI crew carry. They could stay inside the cave for days, if need be. And if the water source Tweeter had told him about was accessible, he had purification tablets and filters.
As he walked, carefully placing his feet, just in case there was a drop off, his only concern was Tara's physical condition. Other than an occasional cough and moan, she still hadn't opened her eyes. But she had responded to his voice. She was in there, just exhausted.
Or so he told himself.
The air was now much cooler. He pulled the mask down. The air was clean and smelled moist. The water had to be close by. And then there it was. A small stream rippled over rocks. He could even see small fish darting about. The area around the stream was a combination of solid rock and sand that could have been here thousands of years or washed down from above in spring floods.
"Okay, baby. We're going to set up camp. I'm putting you down until I can make you a comfortable place to rest." He laid her gently on a smooth, flat rock.
She shivered and reached for him. "Price," cough, cough "the fire…we're…safe?"
"Yes in our very own deluxe cave." Price knelt next to her and smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. He removed her goggles. "Open your eyes for me, firefly."
Her eyelashes fluttered and then she blinked. "Ow, my head hurts. Your light hurts. Tired." She closed her eyes and licked her lips and then winced. "He dead?"
Price heard a tremor of lingering fear in her voice and with a great amount of satisfaction, he answered, "Yeah."
He removed his helmet and placed it on the ground so the light illuminated their safe place but didn't shine in Tara's eyes.
"Too easy for him." She sighed. "I knew you'd come…"
There was no hesitation in her voice. She'd trusted him to have her back, and that meant almost as much to him as her love.
"…all I had to do was stay alive. I wasn't going to let him take our future away from us."
His brave warrior had fought for them. He'd give thanks each day that the fates had sent him a strong woman to love, one who could fight by his side.
"I'll always come for you. I love you."
"And I love you."
Price picked up her bloody, scraped hands and kissed each finger. "Rest. Drink." After he helped her to sit up, he handed her a bottle of fluid with electrolytes in it he'd pulled from his pack. "I'll set up camp and then I'm going to play doctor."
Taking the bottle, Tara snickered, then winced. "Ow, don't make me laugh." She peered at him from under her lashes. "Bobby Rymax tried that when I was thirteen." She coughed, then gasped for a breath. "Bobby was fifteen. Aidan beat the crap out of him." She lay down on her side, curled into a ball, then closed her eyes and sighed. "I think you're safe, though. You're my píítaa."
*
Tara lay on the bed Price had made for them. She'd drunk two bottles of the electrolyte replacement fluids. While not feeling one hundred percent better, she was, at least, verging on seventy-five.
So far playing doctor had boiled down to Price manipulating her legs and arms. Since most of her body hurt, it was probably good that he stuck to real doctoring and not play doctoring. She didn't think she'd be up for much more than sleeping and coughing for a day or so. What she wouldn't give for a nice shot of straight oxygen.
Price gently manipulated her jaw.
"How's that feel?"
"Ouch," she muttered, then coughed. "Fuck. Coughing hurts like a son of a bitch. He kicked my right side. I think he punched me in the stomach, too. Things were a little hazy at that point."
Price jerked and inhaled, his nostrils flaring. "Let me check. Hold still." He palpated her ribs, massaged her diaphragm. "Take a deep breath."
"Ouch." She grimaced. "It hurts, píítaa."
He muttered under his breath, something about finding the fucker's carcass and pounding it into dust.
Tara appreciated the sentiment; she'd want to do the same to anyone who hurt him.
"Price…" She waited for him to look at her. His blue eyes were dark with pain, as if he shared each hurt Miller had given her. "I can breathe, and it isn't a sharp pain. So bruised, maybe? I've had broken ribs. I know these aren't." She cupped his jaw and rubbed her thumb over the twitching muscle in his cheek. "I'm fine. We're fine. Plus, Miller's dead and probably ashes by now. It's over."
The muscle in his cheek still flexed, but he nodded. Then he brought tears to her eyes as he kissed each and every bruise on her face; delicate butterfly kisses that conveyed his feelings as much as or more than any other kiss he'd ever given her.
Price touched his forehead to hers. "I want to wrap those ribs, just in case. Then I'll treat the cuts on your chest. Then I'll dig out some ibuprofen. You can drink some more fluid and eat some of the nuts and dried fruit in my pack."
"Okay." Tara nodded. "At least we have lots of water and we can treat it. So, all in all, we're doing good."
"We're better than good." Price ran his hand over her hair. The look on his face was one she'd never seen before—fear.
"Price?" Tara wiped away moisture from his dirty cheek. "Tears. Why? We're okay."
"I thought you were dead." He inhaled and blinked the moisture from his lashes. "You were so still and so bruised…bloody." He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand as she touched his cheek. "I don't want to live without you."
"You won't have to." She cupped his face and touched her lips to his, then winced. "Guess kissing is off the menu for a bit." She sighed. "I think I'd really like those meds now. Don't really feel like eating anything unless it's soft or through a straw until my jaw stops throbbing. And then…would you hold me? Just until our help arrives."
Firestorm (Security Specialists International Book 6) Page 31