Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

“Trust me, baby,” Ethan said softly. “I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to do as I say.”

She barely had time to nod before he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He fumbled with his rifle with his free hand and then charged out the door behind Sam.

The ground spun dizzily underneath her and his shoulder dug painfully into her belly until bile rose and ate at her throat. Around her the world had gone mad. Fire blazed a path across the village and beyond. Gunfire peppered the ground and trees around her, and she was sure she would die. Now, when rescue was imminent, it would all be for nothing. They would never let her go. They’d told her as much.

Suddenly she went flying through the air. Her back hit the ground with such force that all the air was forced out of her lungs. She lay there, one muscled arm banded tight around her waist as she tried to breathe. Pain, so constant, exploded in her head until dark spots danced in her vision.

She tried to turn when the nausea finally overwhelmed her, but she was trapped. Panicked, she kicked and flailed but his grip only tightened on her.

“Shhh, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.”

His voice comforted her, and she stilled beneath him. Ethan pulled her to her feet, and she blinked as she adjusted to the constant stream of sunlight.

As suddenly as he hauled her up, he shoved her back down, covering her head with his big arms.

“Son of a bitch! Where’s the cover?”

Ethan lay there, sprawled over Rachel as he quickly scanned the area. Goddamn it, Sam was pinned down several yards away. Ethan looked again in the direction he knew P.J. to be and where Garrett and Donovan would be rendezvousing.

He couldn’t leave Sam, but he had to protect Rachel. Hell of a choice. His brother or his wife.

He pushed Rachel’s hair from her face and took in the stark terror in her eyes.

“Listen to me, Rachel. I need you to do exactly as I tell you. See that slight path into the jungle?”

He pointed and waited for her to turn her head. When he was satisfied she was locked on, he motioned again.

“When I say go, I want you to run like hell. Straight down that path. Get into the jungle and hide. I have people there. They’ll find you.”

She stared at him in horror, and he wondered if she’d even absorbed his directions.

“Come on, Rachel, say something. Tell me you understand. I have to help Sam.”

Slowly she nodded. He let go of her and she scrambled to her knees, looking warily at her surroundings.

Ethan pulled the mic to his mouth. “I need cover. Sam’s in trouble. I’m sending Rachel to you, P.J.”

In response, a heavy line of fire peppered the area beyond Ethan. He shoved Rachel forward. “Go! Run!”

She didn’t hesitate. Like a colt getting its legs under it for the first time, she stumbled erratically and lunged toward the heavier growth of the jungle.

She looked back, and he raised himself enough that he could see her. Fire seared across his scalp, and he smelled the unmistakable scent of scorched hair and blood.

Rachel stared at him in horror about the time he felt the warm slide of blood down his neck.

“Go!” he barked.

He dropped down and ran his hand over the area above his right ear. It came away stained with blood. He still had most of his hair and he wasn’t missing any body parts, so it obviously wasn’t serious.

He waited only long enough for her to disappear into the greenery before he turned to find his brother.

He crawled over and Sam shot him a disgruntled look.

“Save it,” Ethan said shortly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You should be taking care of your wife,” Sam bit out. “Not babysitting my ass.”

Another round of fire peppered the metal barrels they’d taken cover behind.

“Goddamn sons of bitches,” Sam said. “Where the fuck are Van and Garrett with all the goddamn explosives?”

An explosion shook the ground, and both men covered their heads with their arms as debris rained down all around them.

Ethan grinned. “Right there I’d say.”

Another boom rocked the area, and Ethan and Sam took advantage of the chaos to bolt from their cover. The earpiece fell from Ethan’s ear, and in front of him, Sam cursed a blue streak as they dove behind a stack of boxes.

“Cole’s been hit. Some fucking lucky ricochet. Steele’s on his way to get him. Dolphin and Renshaw are providing cover.”

“What about Rachel?” Ethan demanded. “Have Garrett and Van gotten to her yet? Where the hell is P.J.?”

He hadn’t realized he was yelling into the mic until Sam winced.

“P.J. says to tell you she’s busy saving your ass. No sign of Rachel. Van and Garrett are looking. What the hell happened to your earpiece?”

“Lost it.”

“Shit, Ethan, you’re hit. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

Ethan glanced up at his brother and curled his lip. “What are you, a pussy? Your years out of the army turned you into a girl? Since when do you worry over anything less than a missing limb?”

Sam shook his head and then gestured over his shoulder. “P.J. taken them out yet? I’m getting damn tired of lying here in the dirt.”

Ethan rose up on his elbows and swept his viewing area with his rifle. Just when one of the assholes popped his head over a barrel, P.J. put a bullet between his eyes. Damn the woman was good.

“I’ve got to get to Rachel,” Ethan said.

Sam nodded. “On my count.”

Ethan rolled, coming up on his knees.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The two men dove from behind the crates, and ducked and ran for the jungle.

The world around them went eerily quiet when they reached the area where P.J. was positioned. It made Ethan uneasy.

Moments later, Steele, Renshaw, and Baker staggered through the growth dragging Cole between them. Ethan glanced around to see Sam holding his hand over his ear as he listened intently to traffic. He looked up at Ethan, his expression grim.

“What?” Ethan demanded. “What the hell is going on? Where are Van, Garrett, and Rachel?”

Sam motioned for the others to gather, and the knot in Ethan’s stomach grew bigger.

“Goddamn it, Sam, talk.”

Sam motioned for quiet. “Okay, this has to be quick. Garrett and Van are looking for Rachel. They haven’t turned anything up yet. Renshaw, you and Baker get Cole and get the hell back to the chopper. The rest of you fan out. Let’s find Rachel and get the hell out of here.”

MARLENE Kelly stepped out of the bathroom and padded across the bedroom floor toward the bed where her husband was sitting up reading. As she neared, he lowered the book and took off his glasses.

“You look worried,” he observed.

She managed a faint smile, amused by the fact that after all these years, he still had a knack for stating the obvious. He couldn’t exactly be called intuitive when she’d moped around the house the entire day.

She pulled back the covers and slid under the sheets. As she settled against the pillows, she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “I am worried.”

Frank turned on his side and propped his head in the palm of his hand. “About?”

“Ethan.”

He blew out his breath. “I thought we agreed that it was good that he finally joined his brothers? Does a man no good to stay locked up in that house with all her things.”

“I just worry that he wasn’t ready,” she said unhappily. “Rachel’s death affected him badly.”

“Our boys will take good care of him. You know that. Sam wouldn’t let him go out if he wasn’t confident in Ethan’s abilities.”

“You’re right, I know. I just worry. I want him to be happy again.”

Frank touched her cheek, his calloused fingers tracing the faint wrinkles at her temple. “He will be. It’ll take time.”

She frowned when she heard a sound downstairs. She sat up, Frank’s hand sliding from her skin. Then she turned to her husband. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

She huffed in exasperation. “That sound. It came from the kitchen.”

He stiffened and put a hand on her arm when she started to get up. “You stay here. I’ll go down.”

“We should just call the police,” she hissed.

He gave her a look of annoyance as he headed toward the closet. “It’s probably just a mouse. No need to get Sean over here for nothing.”

He disappeared into the closet and returned seconds later with a shotgun.

“Frank, don’t you dare mess up my kitchen!”

He waved her off and walked out the door. Marlene reached for the phone. Typical Kelly man. All things could be solved with firearms. Not that she had anything against them, but she didn’t want a hole in her newly done walls.

She gripped the phone, determined that if she so much as heard a peep she was calling Sean, and she didn’t give a damn if he had to get out of bed or not.

“What the—Hey, you come back here!” Frank roared.

Marlene winced when a crash sounded. Her fingers were pounding the phone keypad when she heard Frank again.

“Marlene, get down here,” he yelled.

She flew out of bed, the phone to her ear. When she hit the bottom of the stairs and then rounded the corner into the kitchen, she skidded to a halt, staring at the bizarre scene in front of her.

“Get off of me!”

Marlene stared down at the screeching girl lying facedown while Frank sat on her in the middle of the kitchen floor. Frank was rubbing his hand and cursing with every breath.