Page 41 of Seal of Honor
Lust was easy.
Lust he could control.
These other tender, protective feelings flooding him now? They were like grappling in the dark with an unknown entity. He was a SEAL. Sentimentality wasn’t something that he embraced. Yet, there it was, wrapping around him, and he felt a sudden pang of vulnerability.
He’d never been trained to fight this kind of enemy.
He clenched his jaw against the surge of desire, his hand freezing on the curve of her hip. Frustration gnawed at him, twisting his insides into knots. This wasn’t the time for his body to betray him. Not when every second spent here was a tick towards potential disaster.
A flicker of movement outside the makeshift shelter caught his eye, jolting him back to reality.
It was time to put his plan into motion.
Gently, he extricated himself from her and took stock of his condition. All things considered, he felt pretty good. Had a bit of a crick in his side from sleeping on the feed bags, and he needed a shower before he gagged himself. But, otherwise, he felt ready, primed to tackle whatever came their way next. He liked that feeling, thrived on it. He was a man of action, of purpose. And now he had one—protect Audrey at all costs so she could be reunited with her brother.
Jesus, he hoped Quinn and the team hadn’t let his disappearance distract them and were still looking for Bryson.
Amazed that Audrey let him anywhere near her when he smelled like a three-week-old gym bag, he climbed off the feedbags and tested his foot. Still hurt, but not like it had last night, and the swelling had gone down. Nothing he couldn’t handle.
He set a hand on Audrey’s shoulder and gave her a little shake.
Audrey bolted upright, her hair loose and swinging around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “We gotta move, Audrey. Now.”
He saw the confusion in her eyes turn into understanding and his heart twinged with guilt; he’d stolen what could be her last peaceful sleep for a while.
“Are you okay?” She watched him closely as he strode toward the door. “How’s your foot?”
“Not too bad.” He tried the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.
No doubt there was a guard stationed?—
A body tumbled inside as the door opened.
“Aw, fuck.” He gazed down at a young face staring with sightless, glazed eyes at the pre-dawn sky. The guard’s neck gaped open in a morbid grin, sliced from ear to ear.
“Gabe?” Audrey’s voice shook. “What?—”
“Shh.” He waved her back and dropped into a defensive crouch, scanning the campsite.
Another body lay crumpled by the still smoldering fire pit, and a third at the edge of the poppy field. No sign of Cocodrilo, but he thought he saw movement near one of the buildings at his nine.
Had his team found him already?
Gabe cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled, mimicking a bird call, then listened for five long seconds.
No answer.
Not Quinn.
Shit.
Staying low, he edged far enough out into the open to snag the dead guard’s AK-47 and an extra clip of ammo, then ducked back inside the hut. As far as shelters went, it was pretty pathetic, and they had to get out in case a firefight erupted. The thin wood walls wouldn’t stop even a low-caliber round from a pistol. Something more heavy-duty from an assault rifle would tear the hut—and anyone inside—to shreds.
They’d have to make a run for it. Only problem with that was he was down to one boot. And wouldn’t you know, the dead guard had tiny feet. He bent over and began unlacing his other boot.
“Gabe?” Audrey climbed to her feet, staring at him with fear widened eyes. “Oh my God, is that blood?”
