“They’re up the hill!” Will called out.
“I can’t fucking see!” I answered.
We low-crawled to the nearest rocks, hauling Jagger behind us. God only knew the extent of his injuries, but he’d be safer here.
Will and I locked eyes, weapons ready, and with a nod, both rose over the rocks. Holy shit. They were coming straight for us, so many that I couldn’t count. I fired until my clip ran dry, and then threw my only extra magazine in after Will did.
A gunshot hit the boulder next to me, and I turned to see four more coming around the fuselage. We were surrounded. A battering ram punched into my chest, sending me into the rock behind me. Rizzo fired, crouched next to Jagger.
No blood. Round didn’t go through. Now get up or you’re dead. You’ll never see her again.
I sucked air into my lungs and pushed off the rock, meeting Will to stand back-to-back over Jagger. They kept coming. I dropped the M4 when I expended my ammo and reached for my nine mil off my vest.
“Dustoff one-two, this is Gunman one-four. Two minutes out with Dustoff one-one. Pop illum,” the radio called.
I set the device to signal the Apache while Rizzo covered me, then tossed it on top of the fuselage and reached for my radio. “Gunman, we’re taking fire. LZ is red hot.”
I was firing again before the radio hit the ground. One bullet. Save one bullet. Never let them take you alive.
My last magazine loaded, I counted every shot until I reached thirteen. Two more.
I will do whatever it takes to come home to you. The last promise I’d made to Ember shot through my mind, and I shouted as I fired the last two shots from my magazine. “I’m out!”
Everything happened at once. The Apaches arrived, their guns splitting the night, but one guy rounded the back of the fuselage and raised his weapon to me.
December, I’m so sorry.
“Josh!” Will spun, shoving me to the ground and firing a round to take out the last of them.
He stood over me, illuminated by the moonlight, and looked down with a relieved sigh and a nod. The Apaches were here, and the radio announced the arrival of the ground troops and medevac.
I glanced at Rizzo, who threw a thumbs-up as he checked Jagger’s vitals. Maybe we’ve made it. Maybe we’ll be okay.
Will looked at us then offered me a hand to pull me to my feet. As I reached for it, three shots rang out from over the rock.
Will’s eyes flew wide, his stunned gaze locked onto mine.
“No!” My scream was so raw that I barely recognized it as my own. “God, no!”
My vision swam in red and pain raced through my body like an electric shock.
We’d been so close.
Chapter Fourteen
EMBER
This wasn’t happening. Not again. Not Josh.
Paisley squeezed my fingers as the officers walked toward us. I fought my lungs to draw air, as if they’d given up the will to do so.
“What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?” Paisley chanted rhythmically in a whisper.
I drew my eyes away from the reapers at our door and turned to her. “We fill the holes.”
Her gaze flew to mine, wide and already shimmering with tears. She gave a series of tiny nods, and we stepped forward together to the edge of our porch.
He never called me when he got off mission. He never called. He always calls.
“Officers,” I said with a voice much stronger than I thought I was capable of.
The two captains stopped a few feet from us, their eyes darting back and forth between us. Time stopped when the taller of the two opened his mouth to speak.
I blinked, and in that second, I pictured Josh’s hands on my skin, his smile when he asked me to marry him. The way his hand had warmed me through the glass when he played hockey. Being held above his head after his game. Everything about him coursed through me, and I held my breath and that feeling as I opened my eyes again.
“Paisley Bateman?”
My breath left in a whimper that was part relief, but more grief. It’s not Josh. He’s okay. Not Josh. But Jagger. Oh, God. Jagger. Her knees buckled, and I caught her against me, holding her upright.
“I’m Paisley,” she said in a half whisper.
“I’m Captain Xavier, this is Captain Jones. Would you like to go inside?” The taller one stepped forward onto our front steps.
Paisley shook her head, but we backed up so they could meet us. “Tell me. Just say it.”
The shorter one swallowed. “The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that William Carter was killed in action in the Tor Ghar mountains, Afghanistan, late last night, the sixteenth of May. He was killed in a firefight that followed a helicopter crash, which is still under investigation. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss.”
What oxygen I’d managed to suck in left in a gush.
Will. No. No. No. He was just here. Two weeks. It’s only been two weeks.
“Will!” Paisley turned into my shoulder, her slight frame shaking in gut-wrenching sobs. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight, knowing that the ripping my heart felt for the loss of my friend was nothing like what she was enduring.
She loved him.
A thousand words came to mind as tears flooded my eyes—the normal things people said when tragedy struck someone else. But I couldn’t lie and tell her it was okay. I couldn’t placate her and say that I was sorry. We’d both been here before and knew that the words we needed to hear might not even exist in human language, so I said the only thing I could. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”