Caught In The Crosshairs. Elisabeth Rees

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      The sergeant stared straight ahead. “He’s gone, sir.”

      “Gone?”

      “He was in the direct path of the explosion.” Gomez’s voice cracked. “I couldn’t retrieve him.”

      Dean gripped the wheel tight. “You sure?”

      “Yes, sir, absolutely sure.”

      Dean clenched his jaw and his breathing grew quick and strong. The tires squealed as he pressed the accelerator hard. “What on earth just happened there?”

      He noticed Cara jump at the force of his shout.

      Gomez sat back heavily in his seat, rubbing his face. He was pale. “The truck was packed with explosives. This was no weapons drop. There were two heavily armed militia soldiers in the front seats. They knew we were coming. This was a setup.”

      Dean banged the wheel again. “Someone set us up?”

      “There was a sniper trained on you, sir,” Cara said, clearly trying to control the tremor in her voice. “I scared him off with a shot, but he was trying to take you out.”

      “Did you get a good look, Sergeant?”

      “No, he was too far away.”

      “Did you injure him?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “So you missed?”

      “No, sir, I was firing a warning shot. I wasn’t trying to hit him.”

      Of course, he should’ve known. She never missed.

      The jeep’s small engine whined against the speed at which Dean drove. He had to think. He needed somewhere secret, secluded. There was just one place he knew, and he wouldn’t feel safe until he got there.

      He looked at Cara again through the rearview mirror.

      “Sergeant Hanson, are you hurt?”

      She rubbed her knee, wincing. It looked as if she’d fallen heavily through branches and thorns. Her face and hands were badly scratched.

      “No, sir.”

      His eyes flicked between her and the road ahead.

      “This mission just got messy. You’re not trained for this kind of assignment, so it’s my job to protect you. You stay close to me, and you do what I say, when I say, understood?”

      “Yes, sir,” she said.

      He wasn’t convinced of the sincerity behind her standard response.

      “Until we find out who tipped off Major Moore, we trust no one.”

      Dean watched her closely through the mirror. She blinked slowly and seemed to be trying to steady her breathing. She took off her helmet and pulled the band from her hair, allowing it to fall loosely around her face. She put her head in her hands. He grew concerned.

      “Sergeant Hanson, stay focused. I need to ditch this vehicle and acquire another. While I look for something suitable, why don’t you lead us in prayer for Sergeant Hicks? He was a good soldier and a brave man. Let’s honor him and the sacrifice he made for us today.”

      Cara lifted her head and gave him a weak smile. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms together. She managed to say a few words before she slumped sideways on her seat and his heart leaped into his mouth.

      He willed the jeep to go faster, in a race against time to reach a place of safety where he could tend to her wounds, whatever they may be. He knew she must be in a serious condition to succumb to total defenselessness. She was too proud and strong to let her guard down so easily. He allowed his protective instincts to come to the fore, having decided that he would do everything in his power to steer her away from danger. He suspected that she might rail against his authority, but he was adamant that she would not come to harm—not now, not ever.

       TWO

      Cara tried to open her eyes but they were gritty and sore. She struggled to sit up as the room spun around her. Her vision was blurred, and her head swam with memories of running wildly through branches, feeling fiery heat on her back. She could see a small window with white drapes, drawn tight against the low-lying sun. She looked down at herself. She was wearing the Lycra pants and tee that she always wore underneath her ghillie suit. But who undressed her? She was lying on a large wooden bed with blankets, next to a pine dresser on which her rifle rested, neatly in pieces as if someone had been cleaning it.

      She sat bolt upright. Captain McGovern! Had she failed him? She scrambled out of bed and promptly fell, with a thud, to the floor. The door flung open and someone rushed in, picking her up and sitting her back on the bed.

      “Careful, Sergeant, you’re not strong enough to be on your feet yet.”

      She focused her eyes on the face before her. Yes, it was Captain McGovern and he was safe.

      “What happened?” she croaked.

      “You went into anaphylactic shock,” he said, pulling her legs up onto the bed and laying her back on the pillows. “You came into contact with poison ivy while in the woods. You suffered a severe reaction to it, I’m afraid. We almost lost you.”

      “Where...?” Her breathing was short and shallow. “Where are we?”

      “We’re in a cabin in Wyoming,” he said. “It’s my secret hideaway. No one knows about this place but me.” He smiled at her. “And now you, of course.”

      She realized that this was the first time she’d seen him smile. His teeth were perfectly aligned, gleaming white against the olive hue of his skin. She saw a new gentleness in his face, and the memory of his firm, strong arms cradling her sweat-drenched body flashed into her mind. She hated being weak and out of control. But at least she didn’t mess up. Not this time. She was grateful for that.

      She lay back on the pillows. “How long have I been out?”

      “About twelve hours. Luckily, I keep a well-stocked medicine box here in the cabin. We managed to get you here in time and administer adrenaline and antihistamines.”

      She raised her hand to her head and touched it gingerly. Everything felt puffy and swollen. Dean’s face appeared over her, concern etched into the lines and furrows. He put his hand underneath her neck and raised her head up, bringing a cool drink of water to her lips. She sipped it gratefully, allowing the coldness of the liquid to soothe her tight throat.

      He gently placed her head back on the pillow. “You should have disclosed your allergy to poison ivy when you enlisted,” he said, unscrewing the top from a bottle of calamine lotion. “You must tell your superiors everything that might affect your ability to carry out a mission.”

      She closed her eyes. How could she tell him that she didn’t want to divulge any frailty to the army? That she thought even a simple allergy was something she must hide from СКАЧАТЬ