Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(108)

No matter what happens, Jack, swear to me, you tell the team we get her out. I don’t care if you have to hit her over the head and take her out unconscious. She’s not playing the heroine and saving my ass at the cost of hers.

Jack’s amusement was soothing balm on a sore wound. Oh, you got it bad, bro. That woman has you tied up in knots. Get the hell out here and let’s go. We’re not leaving anyone behind.

Ken believed in few things, but he believed in his brother. He gave Mari the location of the helicopter. “Run. Let the team provide covering fire. You keep going and I’ll be right on your heels.”

We’re coming out, he warned his team.

You’ve got enemies scattered in a loose semicircle, Jack warned. Mitch is trying for the bluff, but he isn’t going to make it. There was a moment of silence and then a rifle shot. Oh darn, he slipped back and isn’t moving.

Mari took off, sprinting with the blurring speed of an enhanced soldier, Ken keeping pace right behind her. She didn’t run straight, but zigzagged, trying to find cover where there was little to find. Gunfire erupted all around them, but they kept running, Ken trusting Jack and the others to keep the enemy pinned.

Incoming.

Down, Mari, hit the ground. Ken leapt forward to tackle her, driving her down even as he warned her, sheltering her body with his. Angry bees stung his back and legs, but he sprawled over Mari, striving with his arms to cover her head and keep her safe from the small, deadly missiles the mini-bomb was ejecting.

Jack swore in his head, the curses long and eloquent. Nails. They put nails in the damn thing. You look like a f*ckin’ porcupine. Can you run?

I have to. I can do it. Just don’t let them throw one of those again. He hurt like a son of a bitch, but he wasn’t about to get shot—or captured. He rose, his back and calf muscles screaming at him. Mari obviously felt the pain in his mind, because she kept trying to turn, to see him, but he pushed her firmly forward again.

He put the pain out of his mind. Compartmentalizing was a useful tool, and Ken and Jack had learned it early in life. He ran flat-out, the nails in his body not slowing him down. Several shooters—including Neil and Logan closing in on either side of them and dropping to one knee—systematically picked off the enemy.

Mari made it to the helicopter and caught Martin’s hand, allowing him to jerk her inside. Ken leapt in and caught the rifle thrown at him, picking it out of the air with one hand, swinging it to his shoulder, and dropping to cover his brother as he came out of the foliage. He heard Mari’s gasp as she saw the nails in his body, but his concentration was on the enemy and covering Jack’s butt.

Jack came out into the open, firing steadily. Ken caught sight of a soldier tracking his twin and he squeezed the trigger. The man went down, and Ken immediately swept the area looking for others. One rose up right in front of Jack, shooting too fast. Ken saw Jack stagger.

Drop. Even as Ken gave the order, he pulled the trigger. Jack hit the ground and the soldier fell almost on top of him. How bad you hurt?

Just clipped me, took a little bit of muscle, but I’ll live. Jack was already up and covering ground fast, looking just as lethal as ever in spite of the blood on his right arm.

Stop trying to look cool and get your ass in the helicopter. Everyone knows you’re a tough guy. Ken kept the worry from his voice, covering his concern with their usual jokes.

I was hoping you’d come and carry me; I’m feeling a bit weak. Jack fired off another round, and a soldier using a boulder as a partial shield went down.

Ken tracked two of the enemy sighting on Jack and shot them both. Briony’s going to be really pissed at you for coming home damaged.

I’m bringing her sister. She’ll be treating me like a hero. Jack made it the last few feet and leapt inside. Martin and Neil followed suit.

“Go, go,” Neil ordered, and all of them turned their attention to any ground fire coming their way.

Logan pressed Ken down and sat beside him. “Toss me the med kit.” He pointed behind Mari’s head.

She snagged it and threw it to him, her gaze still on the ground, watching. Once the rifle went to her shoulder, and she pulled the trigger.

“We’re clear. No birds in the air.”

She noted there was no relaxing. Neil and Martin took up positions to protect the helicopter as Logan began to pull the nails from Ken’s back and calves. Most were shallow; there were one or two that looked deeper. Logan ripped Ken’s shirt from his body, and she caught all of the men glancing at one another.

Mari dropped down beside Ken and put her hand on the back of his head. She leaned close to him, feeling protective, knowing he wouldn’t show it, but he detested the others seeing the scars and the way his back looked like a giant grater had scraped over him, turning the skin haphazardly to cottage cheese. The front of his chest had the same thin pattern of scars as his face and neck. There was no way to block the line of vision all his team members had. She despised the looks on their faces.

Hey, baby, you doing all right? She wanted to ask out loud, for all of them to hear the concern for him in her voice, to hear what she felt for him, but she couldn’t make herself that vulnerable. She asked it softly, intimately, in his mind, trying to join them together so he could feel she was with him.

His fingers tangled with hers. There was physical pain, but he could easily bear that. It was much, much more difficult to have his friends staring at him—seeing him—seeing the terrible destruction of his body. Mari ached for him, felt tears burning in her eyes and throat for him. He had been a handsome man with an astonishing face and physique, and Ekabela had taken great care to destroy him, inch by inch.