Page 11 of Raven's Hunt
“You wear it.” She huffed when he just stood there. “We both know you’re gonna jump in front of any bullets whether I’m wearing the vest or not so, put it on.”
He reminded himself to have a serious chat with her once they were safe as he slipped it on.
Tierney scanned the area, shifting on her feet. “It’s too quiet. We should?—”
Gunfire.
Spraying down from above. That asshole she’d hit in the vest looming overhead. Brass ticked off the rocks, a couple hitting the other merc as Buck lunged at Tierney, took her to the ground, one hand cushioning her head, his body covering hers. He rolled, gaining some distance when a round punched through his right arm, instantly numbing his hand all the way to his fingers.
Tierney raised her Beretta, rattled through the last of her mag, clipping the guy in the vest again before he toppled out of sight. She holstered the weapon, helping Buck to his feet as she stared at the blood eating through his hoodie.
He waved her off, scrambling across the shoreline as more men appeared on the ridge above, a steady stream of brass stitching across the rocks. They ducked into a protected alcove, chests heaving, the air thick with salt and spray.
Tierney slipped off her pack and hauled out the first aid kit, ignoring Buck when he tried to bat her away. “If we don’t take a minute now, we might run out of them later.”
She grabbed a packet of clotting powder, some alcohol wipes and gauze, cleaning the wounds before layering on the powder then wrapping it all in a tight dressing. She repacked the kit, her gaze constantly straying to his injury.
He sighed. “I’m fine. Been hurt way worse than this.”
“You shouldn’t have shoved me beneath you.”
Buck scoffed. “Cold day in hell before I let you take a hit I could block. Best make peace with that now.”
Her chin quivered, her lips pursing tight when a blast of static made her jump.
The radio he’d grabbed crackled, a deep voice booming through. “Containment breached on shelf. Move QRF to the northern ridge access. Push them into the basin. Nobody leaves that beach alive.”
Buck groaned inwardly. If the bastard in charge had a Quick Reaction Force standing by, that meant they’d be facing another dozen, heavily armed men, who’d just been instructed to cut them off — kill on sight.
Tierney leaned against the rock chimney, fatigue etched in the lines on her face. “Options?”
He studied the area. “We can’t go back, and based on that message, they’ll be sweeping the tree line by the time we cross the shore. You?”
She clenched her jaw, pointed up. “It’ll be ugly, but…”
Buck coughed. “You want to free climb the stack?”
“Like I said, it’s messy but doable. If your arm can handle the strain.”
“My arm’s fine, but…” He pushed down the pain, the way his fingers tingled. “I’ve got your six.”
She nodded, slung the rifle across her back, then readied herself, stopping to give him a short, hard kiss before palming each side of the rock, then inching up the chimney, boots and hands pressing against the slick stone. Buck watched her ascend, wondering how the hell she looked so fluid, so damn graceful when she had to be firing on empty, just like him.
Lights appeared on the ridge, cutting a swath across the shoreline before winking out.
Buck drew in a breath, found a couple of handholds, then started up, boots kicking against the rocks, his palms slipping on the salty surface. Water gurgled beneath them, the tide already covering the rocks below with a film of water.
He kept moving, his right arm buckling under the constant pressure. He paused, shaking it out, willing some kind of feeling into his fingers, when Tierney twisted, inched down and grabbed the handle on the back of the vest. She braced her feet, used one hand to haul him up until he was almost level with her.
He started to object, but she shook her head, climbing up then reaching down again, helping him cover the last twenty feet before virtually pulling him over the lip and onto the rocky bench. They collapsed onto a flat, windswept, promontory clearing surrounded by stunted pines, and flowing grass. The ocean roared below them — the forest looming in the distance like a sentry.
He took a breath, then rolled, staggering to his feet when his sat phone buzzed. He yanked it out of his pocket, adjusting the volume as Bodie’s voice crackled through. Buck tapped the receiver, nothing but garbled static sounding above the crashing waves. “Bodie, do you copy?”
Another blast of broken chatter, then the line cleared. “Line’s garbled, but I’m here with Wade. SITREP.”
Wade Stone. A fellow Army Ranger and one of the original members of Raven’s Security. He was severely injured a few months back on a supposed routine scouting mission and was currently fighting his way back to field status. Was likely the guy who’d intercepted Buck’s first SAT call and rallied the troops.
“Multiple tangoes. Heavily armed. We’re on the ridge northwest of our previous location. Brother, we need a ride, five minutes ago if you can manage it.”
