“JDAM drop in thirty seconds,” Theo said. “Prepare for significant boom.”
“Hold on to your skirts, ladies. I don’t need to see no asses on display in my bird,” the pilot warned, increasing their speed as they cleared the tree line, spinning into rotation to get as far from the target as possible.
A deafening roar echoed from below as the JDAM fell. The ground erupted in a blinding flash of light, illuminating the landscape like a miniature sun, and a shockwave rattled through the air as the compound was obliterated in an all-consuming fireball. Dirt and debris shot into the sky, cascading down as if in slow motion, swallowing what once stood.
“Holy shit,” Dawsyn gasped, momentarily frozen in awe.
“Keep your heads down!” Rowan shouted instinctively, despite knowing they were securely inside the helicopter, watching the fiery inferno reduce the compound to mere rubble.
I win, motherfucker.
See you in hell in a couple of years.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Knock,knock, knock.
“Enya?”
She jerked upright off the pillow, her heart racing at fifty billion miles an hour. “What was that?”
The knock sounded again, “Enya, we got a mare foaling, get your ass up in case I need help.”
That’s Gael.
Mare foaling.
Crap.
“I’m up.” She bolted out of bed. “Coming.”
“I’m on my way to the barn,” Gael called through the door. “Keep the dogs in the house. We don’t need flight instinct kicking in for mama.”
“Okay.” She hopped on one foot as she tried to get her other one into her jeans. “Turning them around the right way might help.” She managed to get one foot through the opening of thejeans and then the other. By the time she made it to the bedroom door, she’d even gotten a hoodie thrown on over her tank. After stepping into her boots and double-checking the door was shut to keep the dogs inside, she ran toward the barn.
She slowed her pace as she reached it. Her daddy would whoop her butt if she caused a disturbance when a mare needed peace and quiet to bring a new life into the world. She petted noses and scratched chins on curious horses, all the way down the aisles to the foaling stalls.
Gael squatted on his heels just outside the stall. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his face, the stubble along his jaw casting tiny shadows, his dark eyes locked onto the mare inside. He didn’t turn as Enya approached, didn’t so much as flicker a glance her way, his entire focus narrowed down to the bay mare within the stall.
Enya fetched a square bale of straw and placed it against the wall of the stall opposite the laboring mare. “Sit on this one,” she whispered. “I’ll get another for me.”
“Thanks.”
She grabbed another bale and lugged it back to place it next to Gael’s. “How is she doing?”
Her boy Rain’s momma Dusk, the mare about to foal, stood with her hindquarters toward them, her tail raised, her flanks dark and slick with sweat. Each breath she took was a visible effort, her ribs expanding and contracting beneath her bay coat, the muscles along her spine twitching with the deep, rolling contractions of labor. The bedding beneath her was already stained dark with the first rush of amniotic fluid, the strawclumped and sodden where it had soaked in, the sharp, almost coppery scent of it mixing with the earthier notes of the barn.
“She stood up about two minutes before you walked in,” Gael murmured. “She’s just working out what’s the most comfortable place. As long as she’s not in trouble or with her ass to the wall, we’re just here to observe.”
The mare was built for the deep, rhythmic work; her body knew exactly what it was doing. Dusk’s ears flicked back toward them for a brief second, her dark eyes rolling slightly to take them in, but there was no fear there, no agitation. Just exhaustion, and the single-minded determination of a mother bringing new life into the world.
“She’s taking it steady,” her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t want to break the spell of the magic playing out in front of her. Even though she knew the mare wouldn’t hear her, she needed to give voice to the words. “Good girl, Dusk. You’re doing so good.”
“She’s rocking it,” Gael agreed.
The mare’s sides heaved again, her breath coming in short, sharp gusts through her flared nostrils. Another contraction seized her, her tail lifting higher, the muscles along her spine tightening like bowstrings drawn taut. Enya’s own breath hitched in response, her body tensing in sympathy as a dark, glistening bubble pushed through the birth canal, the lips of the mare’s vulva stretching wide to accommodate it. The amniotic sac bulged outward with the unmistakable press of hooves beneath it, the membrane taut and shining under the dim light.
“Not a red bag. I’ll take it.”
