Hot Soldier Cowboy (The Blackjacks Book 2) Page 22

  “Are you sure about this, baby?” he asked.

  She nodded firmly at him. “I’m sure, Mac.”

  He leaned down and kissed her briefly, gently. His lips were swollen against hers, and she tasted blood. As much as she wanted to fling her arms around him and never let go, she refrained. He was in too much pain already.

  “Stay flat against the floor, Susan,” Mac directed. “Heat and pressure from the explosion are going to be bouncing around over your head and will scramble your brain if they hit you.”

  “Lovely,” she remarked dryly.

  Mac flashed her a smile, but it was weak. Far too weak. “Just sit tight after the blast, and I’ll come back for you as soon as the coast is clear.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  His voice was starting to falter. “The filing cabinets are…dense enough to absorb…most of the shock. Just stay down, cover your ears, and…you’ll be fine.”

  He had to get out of here. Now. She was not going to stand around twiddling her thumbs while his life slipped away.

  “This better work, Mac,” she declared. “Because if it doesn’t, I’m taking your gun, shooting all those snipers and calling you an ambulance. That’s all there is to it.”

  Mac nodded at Tex. “You heard the lady. Let’s do it.”

  The two men took off their night-vision goggles and put their hands over their ears. Tex nodded at Mac. Susan watched his finger depress the button on the small remote control in his hand. There was a bright flash as the det cord blew a door-size hole in the wall. Tex jumped through it, tossing his flash-bang out in front of him as he went.

  Mac paused just long enough in the gap to glance over his shoulder at her. He mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  And then he was gone.

  There was another bright flash outside, and then she ducked down way back underneath the filing cabinets. She slapped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes tightly shut.

  First there was a jolt as the floor jumped beneath her. Then came a blindingly bright light through her eyelids, followed instantly by a deafening blast so loud it made her whole body ache. A ferocious wall of heat struck her, slamming her flat against the floor.

  Chunks of plaster and concrete rained down on the cabinets above her, and the opening in front of her filled completely with dust and debris. Dusty, concrete tasting darkness engulfed her. She felt buried alive. Panic leaped in her gut, and she pep-talked herself frantically to keep from screaming in terror.

  Mac knew she was here. He said he would come back for her. He and Tex wouldn’t let her burn alive. They’d be back. She repeated the words over and over in her head, a frenzied litany that kept her from losing her mind with fear. Barely.

  The minutes ticked by and smoke began to creep through tiny openings in her shelter. The

  smell of fire grew strong and acrid in her nostrils, and the tiny space began to close in on her. Oh, God. She was going to die in here, and Mac would never know how very much she loved him.

  And then she heard a noise. Someone was tearing at the pile of debris in front of the opening. She scrambled forward and shoved on it with all her might. Her knee protested violently, but she ignored it. Wrecking the joint completely was preferable to burning up.

  Slowly, with a reluctant cracking of wood, the pile in front of her gave way.

  “Susan, are you okay?” came Mac’s ragged voice.

  She sobbed aloud in her relief. “I’m here,” she cried.

  A piece of drywall lifted away, and Mac’s hand was there, reaching in for her. She grabbed it and held on for dear life as he dragged her clear of the mess. He wrapped his arms around her and held on like he was never going to let go. The fire and destruction around her were eerily reminiscent of that night ten years ago. She looped her arms around Mac’s neck and buried her face against his chest. He’d come back for her. Saved her. Again.

  “Let’s go!” Mac shouted over the growing noise of the fire.

  Susan jumped through the hole in the exterior wall and fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap. Mac landed beside her with a grunt of pain.

  Tex spoke fast over her headset. “I got two of the snipers for sure, Mac. Had to try twice for the third. I hit him but I don’t know if he’s down or not.”

  “Roger,” Mac replied tersely. “His last position?”

  “Your two o’clock, one hundred yards. In that stand of trees.”

  “Got it. Stay down flat, Susan, while we look for this guy.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. She plastered herself against the ground. Within a few seconds, heat from the burning building blistered her back. She ventured a glance back behind her. “Uh, Mac, I think we’d better get out of here. The fire’s about to come out the window.”

  Mac swore beside her. “There were more flammable materials in the construction than there should have been. We’ve got to move, Tex. We need about a hundred feet more to clear the secondary blast.”

  “Secondary blast?” Susan squeaked.

  Mac nodded. “Yeah. The rest of the flammables in the building, like gasoline or cleaning solvents, are gonna blow soon the way this building’s going up. That’s why I came back for you before we took out the last sniper.”

  Great. Susan mimicked Mac as he inched forward on his belly, propelling himself with his elbows and toes. It was slow and painful going at best. But each yard put them farther away from the inferno blazing behind them. How Mac managed to keep moving with his injuries eluded Susan.

  The ground exploded in a puff of dust in front of Susan’s face. She flinched, startled. “What was that?” she whispered.

  “Don’t move!” was Mac’s sharp reply.

  He propped himself up on his elbows beside her, and something hard rested across the back of her thighs. Cold metal jumped away from her flesh as Mac pulled the trigger once. The barrel of Mac’s pistol touched her legs again, warm this time.

  “Nice shot,” Tex commented.

  “Hello? What just happened?” she demanded.

  Tex answered succinctly. “The last sniper took a shot at you and missed. Mac shot back. He didn’t miss.”

  “Oh. Uh, thanks Mac.”

  “Any time,” he replied casually.

  “Why don’t we get out of here, boys and girls?” Tex suggested, climbing to his feet with his rifle at the ready before him.

  Mac and Susan stood up, as well, and headed for the same trees the sniper had been hiding in moments before. Even with her knee in open revolt, Susan had no trouble keeping up with Mac’s shambling gait. She actually put her hand under his elbow to support him the last few yards.

  The building behind them made an ominous whooshing noise and then sent a huge plume of smoke and flame shooting up into the night sky, lighting it as bright as day.

  They reached the shadows of the trees, made all the darker for the light behind them. Mac stopped just inside the tree line and slid down a tree trunk to the ground. She hovered over him, hating the helpless feeling of not being able to do anything for him.

  Tex materialized out of the darkness. He squatted beside them, talking quietly into hit throat mike. He announced, “Doc’s on his way. He’ll be here in a minute.”

  Susan blinked. “Doc, as in Joe Rodriguez?”

  Tex frowned at her. “How do you know Joe?”

  “Doc, Dutch, Howdy and Mac have been at the ranch.”

  “Doing what?” Tex sounded surprised.

  “Well, they weren’t on vacation,” Susan replied tartly.

  “What the hell’s been going on since I left?” Tex demanded.

  “It’s a long story. Once we get Mac taken care of, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “You bet you will,” Tex growled. He looked back and forth between them. “Then, everything’s all right between you two?”

  Mac looked as uncomfortable as she felt at that one. She was relieved when he broke the silence that abruptly descended by saying, “Hey, Tex. Why don’t you go do a q
uick body check while we wait for Doc?”

  “Good idea. Don’t go anywhere, old man.”

  Mac chuckled and then grabbed his side.

  Susan winced for him. He must have some broken ribs the way he kept holding his side like that. “What’s a body check?” she asked to distract him.

  “You have a look at the bodies to verify they’re dead.”

  “Oh.” She was sorry she’d asked.

  She jumped when Tex appeared beside her a couple minutes later. When had he learned to move so quietly? He’d bombed around the house like a minor tornado as a kid.

  “Look who I found,” Tex crowed.

  Doc appeared beside her brother. She grabbed the medic’s arm and all but shoved him at Mac. She waited anxiously while Doc examined him.

  Finally the dark-haired man leaned back on his heels. “I don’t know how you did it, Mac, but you’ve got no life-threatening injuries that I can see. Your left wrist is broken, if I had to guess. You need an MRI to make sure you didn’t rupture anything under those busted ribs, too. But you’ll live.”

  Susan sagged in relief.

  Doc continued. “You’re going to need stitches over your right eye when we can get that swelling down a little. I’m going to tape your ribs right now, and that’s going to hurt like hell’s own fury, but you’ll be able to breathe better after I do it. Beyond that, you need about two weeks of bed rest and a trip to the dentist to cap that cracked tooth.”

  Susan gasped. “That jerk cracked your tooth?”

  Mac grinned crookedly. “Hey, at least the dude wasn’t a professional interrogator. Otherwise, he’d have been pulling my teeth out.”

  Doc nodded. “Along with a dozen other interesting forms of torture you were lucky to avoid.”

  Susan shuddered at the thought. She stayed out of the way while Doc taped Mac’s ribs. How many times in their lives were she and Mac going to get this lucky? First she’d survived the surveillance van getting shot up, and now he’d survived being beaten half to death. Except this time Mac’s injuries were her fault.

  All of this was her fault.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mac fidgeted in the hospital bed, frustrated by his enforced stillness. Two weeks of bed rest had all but killed him. His wrist still hurt under the cast, but he’d been through worse. He looked out the window at the darkness outside. Somewhere out there was Susan. What was she doing tonight? Was she thinking of him? Counting herself lucky to have gotten rid of the bastard who messed up her life every time he got near her?

  A deep voice spoke behind him. “Hey, you slacker. Enjoying lying around getting waited on hand and foot?”

  Mac turned his head to look at Colonel Foley. “Hey.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Mac shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about himself. “Any luck identifying Ruala’s body?”

  Colonel Foley grinned. “We got the DNA report back today. That was Ramon Ruala you took out, all right.”

  Profound relief swept through him. Now Susan would be safe. “Thank God,” he said aloud. He shifted his weight in the bed and flinched as his arm protested. His boss made a sympathetic grimace. Mac recalled that the colonel had broken his left forearm on his last mission, too.

  Foley asked, “How’s the arm? I heard you’re healing nicely.”

  “The docs say only time will tell if I’ll be able to go out in the field again.”

  Colonel Foley sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “If anybody can make it back, it’s you. But don’t sweat it either way. You know there’s a standing offer for you to teach demolitions at the Special Forces schoolhouse.”

  Mac nodded. He’d been trying to prepare himself for the last two weeks to be put out to pasture like a broken-down old racehorse. Maybe retirement wouldn’t be so bad if he had someone to go home to. But he didn’t. He was alone.

  If he really loved Susan, he would walk away from her. Leave her the hell alone and quit wrecking her life every time he came into contact with her. God, it hurt, though.

  The colonel’s casual voice interrupted his misery. “I hear you’ve gone off your feed. Been a little out of it, recently. Anything bugging you that I can help with?”

  Mac’s gaze snapped to his boss’s. They were much more than senior officer and subordinate. Much more than teammates. Much more even than friends. They’d been to hell and back together more times than he could count over the past eight years. “Are you asking as my boss or as a friend?”

  “Either. Both.”

  Mac closed his eyes against the searing pain that swept through him. He managed to grit out, “How’s Susan doing?”

  She’d been whisked into protective custody straight from the site of the explosion. Nobody but the guys on the Blackjacks knew she was alive. There’d even been a mock funeral, which thankfully he’d been too laid up from his injuries to attend. In keeping with the story that she’d died in the fire, Tex had even worked out a deal for Frank Riverra to run the ranch permanently.

  Colonel Foley shrugged. “She’s about like you’d expect. Lonely. Scared. Putting on a brave front.”

  “Do me a favor,” Mac asked abruptly. “Keep an eye out for her, will you? She’s not nearly as tough as she tries to be. She could use a friend.”

  Colonel Foley answered quietly, “She doesn’t need me, buddy. She needs you.”

  Mac jolted. “Excuse me?”

  Colonel Foley’s steady, steel blue gaze met his. “You heard me.”

  Mac shook his head. “It’s more complicated that that. I’ve hurt her too bad too many times. I don’t…” He sighed. “I just can’t. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  The colonel shrugged. “It’s your life. But that reminds me. I’ve got something for you.” He pulled out a flat, dark-blue box about the size of his palm.

  Mac recognized the vinyl container. Military medals came in them. With his right hand he caught the box the colonel flipped at him. He opened the lid and looked inside to see a Purple Heart resting on a background of silver velvet.

  “How many is that for you?” the colonel asked. “Four?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Mac replied. “I don’t keep count.”

  Colonel Foley grinned. “Congratulations and all that stuff.”

  Mac grinned, his mood momentarily lightened. They both knew they weren’t in their profession for the medals. He snapped the lid closed.

  “Seriously, that medal isn’t just scrap iron,” Colonel Foley commented. “It’s your country’s way of saying thank you. Lord knows we don’t get much recognition in our line of work, but Uncle Sam knows you’re out there and that you put your butt on the line to protect the nation.” He added lightly, “Too bad I can’t award medals to civilians. Lord knows, Susan deserves a couple of those, too.”

  Mac stared down at the box in his hand. A tiny fire lit in his gut and caught on. It grew and grew until it was a frenzied firestorm whipping through him. He looked up at his boss. “How fast can you get me out of here?”

  The colonel didn’t miss a beat. Clever bastard had probably pushed his buttons intentionally. “It’s nearly midnight, but I expect I can have you out of here in thirty minutes.”

  “Make it twenty.” Mac sat up briskly and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “Where are my damned clothes?” he growled, spurred on by the sudden flames of hope raging inside him.

  Colonel Foley laughed. “I’ll go pull the appropriate strings while you track down your pants. And, Mac?”

  He glanced up at his boss.

  “Ferrare sent his reply to our note. We got it today.”

  “What did it say?” Mac held his breath, tense.

  “He said to bring on our revenge. He bought Susan’s death. She’s safe.”

  Mac grinned. “Make it ten minutes, sir.”

  SUSAN TOSSED AND TURNED, the bed sheets hot and clingy. And then she heard it. A thump downstairs. Somebody was in the house. Darkness enveloped her, and her room was cloaked in menacing shadows
, just like the night this whole nightmare started. Her bedside clock said it was a little after 1:00 a.m.

  Her pulse jumped and fear choked her. Had Ferrare’s men come for her? Had they managed to kill the U.S marshals outside and get into her hiding place? She considered creeping into her bathroom, locking the door and hiding in the bathtub. But something reckless inside her didn’t care if she lived or died anymore. Taking risks had ceased to matter. Mac was gone. Her heart was broken for good this time. So what if she ought to call the Blackjacks right now instead of investigating for herself?

  She got out of bed and opened the bedroom door. She paused and listened but heard nothing. Easing down the stairs, she didn’t see anything unusual. A dull knife of loss stabbed her heart anew. How she wished for Mac’s strong, confident presence, right now. He would make short work of an intruder in her house.

  She lurched as a shadow rose up in front of the fireplace. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’ve got a gun and I’ll shoot.”

  “Don’t be silly, Suzie. That’s your finger pointing at me.”

  She exhaled sharply. “Mac Conlon, one of these days I’m going to shoot you for real if you keep scaring me like that.”

  Her heart raced like a runaway horse’s. Why was he here? Did she dare hope?

  An awkward silence fell between them.

  “Come sit down, Suzie. We need to talk.”

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa while he added wood to the fire he’d just built. He sat down close enough to look deeply into her eyes in the fledgling firelight.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. It’s just that—” the words burst out of her in a rush “—I’ve been so worried about you, Mac. It was so hard being here alone. Nobody knows if Ferrare bought my death or not, and we don’t even know for sure that Ruala’s dead, and then I lost you again—”

  Somehow she ended up in his arms, her face buried against his chest, while sobs shook her shoulders. His big, capable hands rubbed her back while she cried it all out.

  “Whoa, there, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair. “I came to tell you the DNA results came back today. Ruala’s dead. And, we heard from Ferrare. He bought your death. You can go back to a real life, now. A new one, but a life.”