Bodie snorted. “And that cut on your cheek’s still bleeding.”
Dalton shoulder his weapon, muzzle sweeping the trail. “Foster’s one minute out.”
Bodie nodded, aware that was likely fifty-nine seconds too long, their tenuous lead quickly fading. But he held firm, kept scanning the grounds, the heavy beat of the rotors sounding in the distance. He glanced over his shoulder as the helicopter bled out of the storm, twenty feet off the surf, twin vortices spiraling out the back. Foster didn’t slow, bleeding off the speed in one insane flare before towing the right skid onto the cliff.
Kash and Zain flew out the open doors, waving everyone in as the chopper rocked from the violent drafts. Buck jumped on first, Alister slung over one shoulder, Tierney at his side. Nick and Avery went next, Rowan yelling at them to haul ass.
Dalton shoved Bodie ahead of him, laying down a spray of rounds when two men appeared on the trailhead, muzzles flashing in the darkness. Bullets whizzed past them, pinged off the cowling, as they raced for the chopper.
Bodie stepped up, nearly fell through the skids when a severe updraft physically lifted the machine, tipped it dangerously close to the trees. Dalton grabbed Bodie’s vest, yanked him back as Foster took off, vanishing into the clouds a second later.
Dalton shoved Bodie behind a log, popped out to send Graves’ forces scrambling for deeper cover, casings clanking against the stone. Bodie fired the next round, changing out his magazine before firing, again.
He ducked down as the men blasted the cliff front, rounds thumping into the wood. “He’s coming back.”
Dalton merely nodded. “Wouldn’t expect any less. But on the off-chance he can’t, you think you can jump without the impact tearing through your leg?”
Bodie snorted. “It’s a good eighty feet down.”
“Better than dying here…” Dalton glanced at Bodie. “Or worse.”
Bodie stilled, forced himself to swallow. “Never again, brother. I promise you that.”
Dalton’s muscles tensed. “We’ll give Foster another couple minutes, then we either make a run for that gully trail, or we jump.”
“Hooyah.”
Dalton chuckled, went through another mag, then half of his next, constantly checking their six, watching the sky. Two minutes came and went before he sighed, shook his head. “I’ve only got a couple mags left. Time to make the tough call.”
Branches snapped off to their left, more men flanking their position through the woods.
Bodie grunted as he fired a couple more rounds. “I really hate jumping, you know that, right?”
“You were a damn Army Ranger. It was literally part of your job.”
“With a parachute. Not this cowboy, stuntman shit.” Bodie paused. “At least, Rowan’s safe.”
Dalton chuckled. “Judging on way she looked at you before Foster had to peel off, you might not be if we live through this.”
“I’ll take whatever she dishes out.” He looked at Dalton, said what he hadn’t voiced out loud. The truth he needed someone to hear, a way of making it real, just in case. “I think I love her.”
Dalton snorted. “About damn time. You ready?”
Bodie drew in a deep breath. “On three?”
“Sounds good.”
“On my count. One… Two…”
Thunder. Sounding off to the right, beating up through the rocks as Foster’s helicopter rose from behind the cliff, cresting the ledge like a damn wraith. Smoke rose off the rotor head, a few holes punched through the sides as he pulled up short. Bullets rained out from the back, either Zain or Kash stitching a line across the trail.
Graves’ forces retreated, shouts mixing with the howl of the downwash. A line rolled out from the ass end, a couple harnesses snapping in the wind.
Dalton had Bodie on his feet, sprinting for the line a heartbeat later. They slipped the harnesses over their heads, barely snugging them beneath their arms before Foster pulled pitch, dropped the bird off the cliff, every movement shuddering through the fuselage as he shoved the nose down, screamed toward the water. The rocks rushed past, the spray clawing at their boots before the machine leveled off, headed north.
Bodie held on, vowing he’d get Foster back, his stomach lodged up in his throat. Rain sliced at his skin, the wind chilling him to the point he couldn’t feel his face. His buddy eventually slowed, brought the chopper into a high hover once they’d put about a mile between them and the facility.
Dalton looked ready to rage war by the time Zain dragged them into the cabin, shutting out the storm. “I swear to god, that was worse than Colter’s rescue, and I’d been waiting five years for that one.”
