“He headed to town as soon as you left,” Stealth answered. “Said he’d see if there was a boat or chopper he could borrow. And the perimeter guy took off to see what’s happening in the other direction.”
For some reason, that made Mitch feel better. Just like these few minutes of talk had helped. He really wasn’t in this alone. “Anything else?”
“Going by what I’ve got on the computer screen, stay on the same trajectory you’ve been following,” Josh said.
“Seems strange. Wouldn’t Russ have had a boat waiting for them closer to shore?”
“Probably. But you’re not dealing with Russ. You’re dealing with Slugger. He may have no idea what had been set up for escape. In fact…” Josh paused. “It looks like the raft with Liz and Slugger on board might be slowing down.”
“Got it. Talk to you later.”
Mitchdidn’t likethe sound of that. Could mean Slugger was ready to ditch Liz and make a run for it. Could also mean the man knew one of the choppers was CT coming to haul them both to safety.
What was it Russ had said about getting to a ranch? Closest ranches Mitch knew about were in Texas and places west. If he didn’t get to them soon, finding her might take a lifetime.
Didn’t matter. He’d take however long was needed to get her back. She belonged to him—he grinned—of course he could hear her giving him an earful about how she didn’t belong to anybody.
All he could do was hope she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. Maybe they could spend half their lives arguing and the other half having hot make-up sex.
He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead just like he’d done a couple minutes ago. Sweating like a sprinkler while cold as ice wasn’t a good sign. A power drink sounded awful good at the moment. Too bad he was fresh out. Snaking the flat of his hand inside the jacket, he pressed on the shoulder bandage. Nausea shot to his stomach, and his palm came back sticky. Bad news, he was bleeding. Good news, not too much—he hoped.
“Hey, somebody talk to me,” he shouted into the mic.
“I got you, man,” Stealth answered. “What’s going on?”
“Just needed to hear a voice.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Mitch. Tell me what’s happening.”
He grunted, rummaging in the extra storage bin looking for anything. Carbs. Protein. A damn stick to chew on. “Got a ballbuster storm going on out here. Can’t see a damn thing. Bleeding.”
“How much?” Drake shouted.
“Doesn’t matter.” Mitch slammed the bin closed. Nothing. He gripped the handlebars tighter. If he passed out and fell off the Q40, he’d be of no use to anyone. “Come on, guys. Talk to me. What’s going on there?”
“FBI, CIA, locals, they’re all arguing over the garbage you left lying around. Trying to figure out who’s in charge of what,” Stealth said. “One thing for sure, your house is a big-ass mess, man. Needs a lot of…clean up.”
Mitch laughed then sucked in a breath. Let his mind wander. “Guess that means I’ll need a decorator…” He let his mind wander. “Maybe Liz can…”—cough, coughed again—”Hey, guys, I don’t feel so good…think I’m bleeding more than…brother…hypothermia…Hell Week…”
Like playing the movie version of the past few days, the miles passed while his grip on reality wound in and out. He smiled at the memory of sliding on the seat across from Liz back at the Mariner’s. She’d looked so serious and sheltered. She’d called him Dance Man…and he’d called her Liz. Funny how they’d never danced except that so-called dance in the pool. They’d need to do that more often. No, there wasn’t time for fun in his world. His world was…and the first time he’d kissed, no, she’d kissed him first. They’d need to do a lot more—
No time, no time. The world had problems. His world had danger. Danger meant more assignments. No time, no time… He swayed with the memory of the first time they’d made love. She was so beautiful. So intelligent. So strong-willed. So everything he needed.
Spray from a splashing wave brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced around in the darkness. Drifted with his thoughts once again. Memories of teaching her to swim. Of this afternoon on the beach. In the waves. When he’d said goodbye. Goodbye. Why? Why did he always have to— The look on her face when she slipped him the sharp piece of broken glass. The scream when he was shot. The fear on her face as she was ripped from his house.
He couldn’t lose the one thing he’d searched for his entire life. Without her, he’d be nothing. Nothing… He jerked himself upright. Shivering and confused. What had happened? Had he lost focus? Nodded off? He reached into the small pocket on his swim trunks and pulled out the piece of glass. Moved it to the pocket on the sleeve of the jacket then checked his bandage. Hurt worse, swollen and more blood. None of it good.
Control. He needed to stay in control. Control and responsi—
The world in front of him spun in his head. He closed his eyes to orient himself. Still the world spun. Widening his eyes, he tried to stay focused. Lightheaded, clammy and cold, he couldn’t stop the feeling that he was about to lose the battle. About to—
Team. SEAL training marched through his thoughts. Team. Let the team help you. He sucked in a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he realized he needed to ask for help. His team didn’t need him right now. He needed his team. He needed Liz. He needed to stay alive.
“Stealth!” Mitch fisted his hand in front of him. Willed himself to feel the grip of his teammate.
“I’m here, man. Talk to us. You’ve been babbling something crazy for the past ten minutes.”
Drake cleared his throat. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
