Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(58)

Cosky frowned. “Fair. We had some leakage where the tree roots had invaded the concrete, but not enough to pose a problem.”

There hadn’t been any roots in this section of the tunnel. What if Rawls and the doc hadn’t been so lucky?

Son of a bitch.

From the grim mask stamped across Cosky’s face, he shared Mac’s concern.

“Kait and I will backtrack. Look for them,” Cosky said on a sharp turn.

Mac started to follow, eager to remove himself from his current uncomfortable partnership, but—motherf*cker—he couldn’t just abandon her twenty feet underground with two rambunctious boys.

“Problem?” Amy asked in a low voice, apparently picking up on something in Mac’s tense silence.

“Nah, they’re headed back to look for Rawls and the doc. The hub’s up ahead. We’ll wait for them there.” He fought to keep the frustration out of his tone.

“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself and my children,” Amy pointed out in an edgy voice. “Go look for Rawls and Faith. The sooner you find them, the faster we can get out of here.”

Well, she’d sure as hell picked something up from him. Something she didn’t appreciate.

Too f*cking bad.

But he bit back the immediate bad news.

Until they figured out how their hidey-hole had been located, they couldn’t afford to take the kids anywhere. Not if there was any chance they were bugged and transmitting their location.




With a ragged exhale, Rawls straightened, drawing in a deep breath to refill his starving lungs. Ignoring the raw ache in his lower back and the sweat trickling down his cheeks and stinging his eyes, he started the next round of chest compressions.

He stared into Faith’s peaceful face as the heel of his hands pressed hard against her chest and then lifted, repeating the rhythm over and over again. A dull blanket of defeat dragged at him, tried to smother him beneath exhaustion and loss. While he’d managed to jolt her heart into action a couple of times, the beat had been too erratic to sustain any rhythm on its own. Within seconds it had stalled. Again. And again.

While he’d been giving her the standard two breaths per thirty compressions for a one-person rescue scenario, it was doubtful she’d received enough oxygen to supply the depleted stores in her brain. Not without breathing on her own. Even if he could get her heart started and keep it pumping, in all likelihood she’d never wake up.

In all likelihood, she was already gone.

Sarah’s bleached, empty face loomed in his mind. He’d failed Faith as clearly as he’d failed his sister.

He should have tried to reach Kait . . . But Kait was Christ knew where. To find her meant leaving Faith alone. Alone—for Christ knew how long.

Long enough to die. That was for certain. To die all alone, in a dark, cold tunnel.

He hadn’t been able to tear himself away. Instead, he’d promised himself that someone would come looking for them when they didn’t show up at the hub. Someone would find them and then leave to get Kait. Kait would fix her. Kait would fix everything . . . he just had to keep Faith’s heart beating and her lungs full of air long enough for Kait to arrive.

He groaned out a shallow breath. A dull roar of defeat vibrating through him.

. . . Wrong decision. I should have left her. Found Kait. By refusing to leave, I killed her. Just like I killed Sarah.

He’d lost people before. On the field of battle, it happened. You learned to live with it. But this . . . this was different. It sheared at his soul. Not just the loss of life, but the loss of hope and possibilities and the chance at a future he’d sensed but hadn’t had a chance to explore.

Yet.

He hadn’t explored it yet. But it had lingered there in the back of his mind. Something to pursue after he’d exorcised his ghost and got his life back on track. A bright shiny possibility waiting for him in the future.

She’d wanted him. He’d known that. She hadn’t tried to hide it. Hadn’t pushed it, but hadn’t hid it either. And he’d noticed. Sweet Jesus, had he ever noticed. And been tempted, only to haul back because of the circumstances. She’d wanted him. And he wanted her. They could have started with that.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Turning his face toward his shoulder, he rubbed his stinging eyes on his shirt. But the cloth was soaked with sweat and did nothing to absorb the trickles of perspiration or liberate the sting from his eyes.

Might as well stop the compressions. She’s gone. It’s too damn late.

He lifted his hands, but leaned down, opened her mouth, closed off her nose, and gave her two more lungfuls of air.

He straightened to the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Rawls?” It was Cosky’s voice.

“Yeah.” A puddle of light closed over him as he started back in with the chest compressions. “Kait with you?”

His question was lethargic. Without hope.

Too late. Too late. Too late.

The lament pulsed in time to the beat of his hands on her chest.

“I’m here.” Kait squeezed past him, stepped over Faith’s limp body, and knelt across from Rawls. “What happened?”

“Her heart stopped.” The dullness graying his world echoed in his voice.

“How long has she been . . . out?” Kait asked, her tentative voice ripe with concern. “If it’s been too long, I might not be able to help.”