Jesus. Don’t let it be buried.
Ripping the flashlight from his mouth, he shot to his feet and raced back down the corridor, praying the collapse hadn’t been as bad as he feared. Praying he could locate the duffle bag and get back to her in time.
Around the first bend the flashlight illuminated a wall-to-ceiling blockage of soil and concrete.
Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
He spun and sprinted back to Faith. The duffle bag was somewhere past that blockage. Likely buried as well. Unattainable.
He’d have to work with what he had . . . which wasn’t much.
Sweet Jesus, Kait. I could sure use you now.
Faith lay where he’d left her. He checked her pulse.
Nothing.
Checked her breathing.
Nothing.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
His hands and legs suddenly shaking, he knelt, set the flashlight on the ground, and pressed his ear to her chest.
Nothing.
Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
A chasm opened in his chest, threatened to suck the hope from him.
Tilting her chin back, he opened her mouth, made sure her tongue was out of the way, and blew steadily down her throat. Her lips were soft against his, supple.
Heartbreakingly lifeless.
Lifting his head, he stared at her inanimate face and started chest compressions. “Come on, baby.”
His chest aching, memories flooded him.
The sweetest little ass rubbing against his crotch . . . luscious, chocolate-chip-seasoned lips matching his mouth kiss for kiss . . . hot, moist breath bathing his neck . . . solemn, gentle eyes caressing his face. “I’m not afraid of you.”
She was the oddest mixture of strength, spunk, and fragility. Curiosity and intellectual stubbornness. Sultry hunger and innocence.
And he wasn’t going to let her go.
He bent to breathe into her mouth again. “Come on, baby. Come on. Don’t leave me, now.”
“Mom! Mom! There’s someone coming,” Benji all but shouted from behind Mac. Apparently the absence of bombing had brought a return to confidence, which equaled a return to volume.
“Brendan, watch Benji,” Amy’s calm voice said from behind him.
“I got him,” her equally calm son said.
Her eleven-year-old son. It was odd how mature for his age one of Amy’s kids was, while the other child acted so damn young.
A breath later Amy squeezed into the space next to him, her gun braced over her flashlight. He considered ordering the flashlight off. But hell, the glare might prove blinding and provide some protection if that beam bouncing toward them didn’t belong to one of his men.
He shifted slightly to the right, giving her more room, trying not to breathe, so he didn’t draw any of that damn fresh scent into his lungs. He’d been in similar situations more times than he cared to remember, shoulder to shoulder with a teammate, watching an unidentified Tango creep closer. But motherfucker, he’d never paid attention to the smell of his teammate’s hair, or waited for the brush of their bare skin against his arm.
He sensed the pressure invading the slim body beside him, but doubted it sprang from the same emotion constricting his muscles.
He recognized the tight, clipped stride within the brilliant halo of light before the face registered. Amy’s sudden exhale proved she’d recognized Cosky as well. He straightened and stepped forward—relieved to escape the warmth of Amy’s body.
His kryptonite turned to address the darkness behind them. “It’s okay,” she called softly. “It’s Lieutenant Simcosky.”
And Kait, Mac realized, as another figure, slightly shorter and much more slender, trailed behind his lieutenant.
“But we’re hiding,” Benji yelled back, pure enthusiasm in his voice. “They’re supposed to find us!”
Ah, Brendan must have told the little guy they were playing hide and seek. Good call, turning the crisis into a game. But Christ, it made him feel old to see how quickly the kids had recovered.
Mac moved forward, meeting Cosky midway. Since the pair was coming from the direction of the hub, they must have already been there. At least he’d be getting a sitrep.
“You made it to the hub?” he asked once Cos was in hearing distance. At his lieutenant’s nod, Mac grunted in satisfaction. “Who’s accounted for?”
“Now that we’ve located you four—everyone but Rawls and Faith.”
Mac scowled. Rawls had been headed to the main lodge from their cabin. But what if the doc hadn’t been there? He could easily imagine his corpsman’s Southern honor getting him into trouble if he had to track the damn woman down.
He turned to Amy. “Any idea where that roommate of yours disappeared to?”
“She said she was going to the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.”
Which was where Rawls had been headed.
Mac froze, as the next possibility struck. He exchanged grim looks with Cosky. “How did your tunnel hold up during the raid?”