Nobody's Lost (Rescue Me Saga #5)(3)

“Army brat. I’ve lived all over and then some.”

“That why you enlisted?”

Silence dragged out before she responded. “I guess so. Pissed my dad off that I didn’t choose the Army, but I had something to prove to myself. I just hope I’m still in when women Marines are allowed to serve in combat.”

“Not so sure that’s a good idea.”

She sat up straighter and glared at him. “Why not? I can perform just as—”

“Grenade!”

Orlando’s voice jarred them from the conversation. He and Sergeant Miller were hurtling across the rooftop in their direction when the sound of an explosion threw Ryder against the wall he’d been leaning on. His ears rang from the blast. They were under fire.

Momentarily dazed, Ryder tried to remember what he had been doing, but his focus shifted to protecting Lance Corporal Grant. She was his responsibility and shouldn’t be in the middle of this shit.

“Get behind me,” he said picking up his rifle.

“Sergeant Miller and Orlando have been hit.” Ignoring him, she moved toward the two fallen Marines, and he followed.

“Madre de Dios! No! Sergeant, don’t you f*cking die!”

Orlando was lying under the body of Sergeant Miller. Holy f*ck! Ryder and Grant reached the body at about the same time and lifted their Sergeant off Orlando with reverence and speed combined.

“Corpsman up!” Ryder called. Once they had set Sergeant’s body down, they returned to check on Orlando.

Jesus, no. His foot dangled by what looked like some skin and meat alone. Where was Doc? Grant grabbed Orlando’s hand and spoke to him. Ryder had never seen so much carnage in all his years serving in the Marines.

Ryder moved so Doc could assess the situation and keep Orlando alive.

“Keep his head down!” Doc ordered, and Ryder moved to his head where he placed one hand on the young private’s forehead and another on his shoulder. Ryder filled Doc in on what had happened, but the mention of Sergeant’s name had him glancing over at the man’s head.

So much blood.

The hiss of an RPG made it clear the attack was still under way. Ryder realized he hadn’t done his damned job. He radioed their immediate need for artillery and air support with their preplanned fire coordinates.

Doc shouted, “Let’s get him off the roof!”

“Sure thing, Doc!” With Doc’s help, he and Grant lifted an unconscious Orlando onto a litter…

*

Just after midnight

Ryder rolled over in bed, drenched in sweat. His heart pounding, he gasped for breath. Fucking nightmares. He laid his arm over his eyes, but the images came back in living color. Vivid, but different than the one the other night.

Blast.

Brains.

Blood.

Sergeant Miller’s lifeless body. Damián Orlando’s foot blown off. Doc D’Alessio nearly killed.

Jesus, he’d f*cked up that mission. While he was shooting the shit with Grant, all hell broke out for his unit.

His cell phone buzzed. Not now. He didn’t want to speak to anyone until he had time to regroup. Tossing the sheet aside, he sat up. A beer. That ought to take the edge off.

Before he could open the door to the fridge, his landline phone rang. Whoever it was could leave a message. He wasn’t talking to anyone tonight. Even if it was Marcia. He’d call her back in an hour or however long it took to regain control of himself.

The answering machine kicked in, and he waited for his sister’s voice.

“Wilson. Pick up the phone. Adam Montague here.”

How the f*ck did Top have his phone number? He must have been the one calling on the cell, too.

Had Orlando mentioned to his former master sergeant that they had run into each other a couple of months ago on a Patriot Guard ride in southern Colorado? He had known it was a bad idea to go, but the man being buried had served with him in Kosovo. To lay low during his funeral would have been disrespectful, and he damn well wouldn’t let any * activist protester disrupt his buddy finally being laid to rest.

Another brave and hurting hero’s f*cking suicide.

Other than the Patriot Guard Riders, Ryder had severed all ties to those who survived the past and had hoped Orlando would respect his request not to say anything to the others. He wanted to put all that behind him.

The nightmare from the mayhem on the rooftop in Fallujah told him he wasn’t doing a very good job of that, though. He reached for the phone.

“Yes, Top. Sorry. I was…in the head.”

“Glad I waited. How’re you doing?”

“Great. Got myself a nice place in the Jemez Mountains. Nice and quiet.”

Nobody bothers me, and I sure as hell don’t bother anyone else.

“Sounds good.” Top paused a moment. “Listen, Wilson, my sister is staying at our brother’s place in Albuquerque. I have no f*cking clue what’s wrong, but when I called a little while ago, she said the police were there. Also said she’d call me back when they left, but I haven’t heard a thing. Patrick’s out of the country, and I’m worried about her.”

“Sorry to bother you this late, but would you mind running over to make sure she’s okay? It would mean a lot to me knowing someone I trust has taken a look around.”

Go into the city? All those people? Adrenalin kicked in, and Ryder’s heart began pounding.