Breaking Silence (Delta Force Strong Book 1)

by Elle James

  Relieved of his burden, Rucker turned back toward the village. “I’ll go help the others.”

  Lance grabbed his arm. “You’re not going anywhere but onto this helicopter. I’ll go help the others. You stay with Dash.” He didn’t wait for Rucker’s response, but gripped his rifle and ran back toward the village.

  Rucker looked from Dash’s inert form to the village and back, too disoriented to form a clear thought.

  “Help me get this man covered,” Tank barked. He tossed a thin thermal blanket toward Rucker. “He’s going into shock.”

  Rucker took the square packet from Tank and unfolded the blanket. Then he climbed into the back of the helicopter, leaned over Dash and spread out the blanket.

  As he bent, his head swam, and his vision blurred.

  “Sit, Rucker,” Tank commanded.

  Too woozy to argue, Rucker sat in one of the seats and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to clear the fog, or he was of no use to anyone. At the very least, he could cover any of his team running toward the helicopter. If he couldn’t see straight, he risked shooting one of his brothers.

  He watched the cluster of mud and stick buildings that comprised the village, praying for the safe exit of the other operatives. Until they were all safe on board the helicopter, he couldn’t rest easy.

  As he replayed their entry into the target location, he came to one conclusion. They’d been set up. The intel had been planted in order for the Taliban to surprise them in an attempt to take out as many of the Delta Force operatives as they could. Had they used more explosives, the blast could’ve killed everyone around. Hopefully, the protective gear Dash wore was enough to keep him alive, even if he was unconscious.

  Silhouettes emerged from the shadowy edges of the village, heading for the helicopter at a full run.

  Rucker raised his rifle and aimed at the one closest to them.

  The man closest to him raised his hands.

  Tank reached out and pushed the barrel of Rucker’s weapon toward the ground. “They’re ours,” he shouted.

  Rucker nodded and counted as the rest of his team raced across the open clearing and leaped into the helicopter. Bull, Blade, Lance and Mac rushed toward him. At the back of the pack, and nearest to the buildings, Mac turned and dropped to one knee, his rifle raised and aimed at the village.

  Rucker drew in a breath and held it, willing his head to clear, his gaze glued to the village. They were still missing one of their team members. He thought hard through the fuzziness.

  Dawg. Their sniper positioned on the top of one of the buildings had yet to appear.

  A figure detached itself from the shadows and raced in a zigzagging motion toward the chopper.

  Mac laid down a steady stream of gunfire to the side of Dawg, shooting at the buildings and the enemy combatants popping up on the rooftops.

  Lance ran back to a position parallel with Mac and covered Dawg’s other side, keeping the men on top of the building down.

  Dawg ran past Mac and Lance and leaped into the chopper, and then turned and provided cover as Lance and Mac made it back.

  As the Black Hawk lifted off the ground and flew away from the village, Rucker buckled his safety harness around him.

  Only when they were out of gun and mortar range did Rucker let go of the breath he’d been holding. Not only did he let go of the air he’d held in his lungs, he released his hold on consciousness and slipped into the haze that had been creeping in on him since the explosion.

  The flight back to their base of operations seemed to pass in a flash. The next thing Rucker remembered was the soft jolt of the helicopter touching down. He lifted his head and blinked his eyes. As soon as he recognized where he was, his attention swung to Dash.

  The pilot shut down the engine, and the rotor blades slowed.

  “How is he?” Rucker asked Tank.

  Tank nodded. “Still breathing, and no major bleeding on the outside. But he’s still out.”

  An ambulance truck pulled up beside the landing pad. Medics hopped out, pulled a stretcher from the rear and carried it to the chopper.

  Lance, Mac, Bull, Dawg, Blade and Tank got out and stood to the side as they unloaded Dash from the chopper onto the stretcher and carried him to the ambulance.

  “I’m riding with him.” Rucker fumbled with the buckles, finally managing to release them. When he got out of the helicopter, his legs felt like rubber. If not for Tank standing beside him, he’d have ended up flat on his face in the dirt.

  Tank looped his arm over his shoulder and walked him to the ambulance. “Have the doc look you over while you’re at it,” he said.

  Rucker was more interested in Dash’s outcome, not his own. “You’ll debrief the CO?”

  Tank nodded. “He’ll want to talk to you since you were in the building when it exploded.”

  Rucker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Send him by the medical facility. I’ll tell him what I know. And I want to know where the hell they got the intel. That bastard led us into a trap.”

  Tank’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Never was so happy to see your ugly face coming out of that cloud of smoke and dust.”

  “Shouldn’t have happened. Dash shouldn’t have taken the hit.”

  “Agreed.” Tank took Rucker’s rifle and handgun. “I’ll stow these in the armory until you and Dash are back at the unit.” He helped Rucker into the back of the ambulance onto a bench seat beside the medic establishing an IV in Dash’s arm. He caught the medic’s attention. “Watch this one, too.” He tipped his head toward Rucker. “He was out on the ride back.”

  “Gotcha,” the medic said. He finished with the IV, checked Dash’s vitals and turned to Rucker. “How many fingers do you see?” He held up two.

  “Two.” Rucker frowned. “I’m fine. Take care of my buddy.”

  “I’ve done what I can for the moment. He’s breathing, he’s not bleeding profusely and his heart’s beating steadily.”

  “But he’s still out cold.”

  “The docs will take it from here.” The medic flashed a light into Rucker’s eyes.

  Rucker grabbed the man’s wrist. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

  The medic raised an eyebrow and stared at Rucker’s hand on his wrist.

  Rucker released the man.

  “Look, we’re here to make sure you guys are fit to fight. I’ll look out for your buddy, just don’t take whatever you went through out on me.” He tipped his head. “Deal?”

  Rucker nodded and immediately regretted it. Pain knifed through his temple. He winced before he could stop himself.

  “When you get to the treatment facility you should at least let a doc check you out. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

  “Fine.” Rucker stared out the back as the ambulance door closed. His team stood staring back.

  He wished it had been him taking the lead on that door instead of Dash. Dash had family back in the States. A sister who cared about him. Rucker had no one to go home to. No one who would miss him if he were to die. He should have taken point.

  What killed him was that he’d had that feeling something wasn’t right. That instinct had saved him on multiple occasion. Why had he chosen this mission to ignore it?

  The ambulance stopped outside the medical care facility where the Forward Surgical Team was located. As soon as the Army ambulance came to a halt, the medic jumped out.

  Rucker dropped to the ground and leaned against the side of the vehicle while they unloaded Dash. He followed his friend into the facility, giving the medics enough space to do their job.

  A sturdy nurse stepped in front of Rucker, physically blocking his path. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go with your friend into the examination room.” She waved a hand toward another door. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll have a doctor check your wounds.”

  “I don’t need a doctor,” Rucker said.

  The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “You might not, but your wounds might.”r />
  Rucker tilted his head toward his friend on the stretcher disappearing through the door. “That’s my buddy. I’m with him until he leaves this facility.”

  “When they get him settled, I’ll take you to him. In the meantime, you’re a walking germ bath, and you have wounds that could fester if not cleaned.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You want to take infection in to your friend?”

  Rucker frowned. “Of course not.”

  “Then I suggest you make use of our shower facility. I’ll find some scrubs for you to wear. By the time you’re done, the doctor will have had a chance to look over your friend and will have time to look over your wounds.”

  Rucker let the woman lead him through another door and into a shower facility.

  “Leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll have a member of the staff bag them for you to take with you when you leave,” she said.

  Rucker nodded, stepped through the door and started stripping out of his flack vest, shirt jacket and T-shirt. With every layer, he shed fine powdery dust on the floor.

  When he stood naked, he pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the pain throbbing in his head. It was nothing compared to what Dash was going through. He’d taken the hit, his body shielding Rucker’s.

  Dash was his friend. The brother he’d never had growing up. Dash gave him hell like only brothers did. But when the shit hit the fan, he was there for Rucker, and Rucker should’ve been there for him. He should’ve been the one to open that door, to trigger that bomb.

  Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he turned the knob on the faucet and stepped beneath the cool spray. The water created streaks of mud that slid down his body to pool at his feet and slip down the drain.

  He squirted soap into his hands and scrubbed his hair, face and body, not wanting to bring dirt and germs into the hospital environment. Dash’s open wounds needed a sterile environment to heal.

  Making quick, efficient work of cleaning his body, he rinsed thoroughly then reached for the towel folded neatly on a stand beside the shower and dried himself. While he’d been in the shower, someone had slipped a set of scrubs through the door onto a chair. The faded green fabric felt soft against his skin. He slipped into the garment, wishing he had his own shorts and a T-shirt, but he didn’t want to take the time to go back to his quarters to retrieve clothes. He’d been away too long as it was.

  Whoever had left the scrubs had left a large trash bag. Rucker quickly stuffed all his clothes into the bag and tied it. Then he slung it over his shoulder and emerged from the shower unit.

  The nurse who’d shown him to the shower unit appeared. With a curt nod, she said, “Follow me.”

  She led him through the maze of hallways, past small rooms to one at the end. It was empty.

  He turned to the nurse. “Where’s Dash?”

  “He’s getting an MRI to check for bleeding on the brain. When he’s done, we’ll bring him to this room. You can wait for him here.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, I have a doctor headed your way. I suggest you cooperate and let him check you out.” The nurse didn’t wait for Rucker’s argument. She spun on her heels and left the room.

  A tall, thin man, wearing desert camouflage and a stethoscope draped around his neck, entered the room. “The nurse says you and your buddy were hit by an explosion.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rucker said. “The door Dash was about to open hit him full in the chest and knocked us both backward.”

  “That door probably saved his life. That and his flack vest,” the doc said. He shined a light into Rucker’s eyes. “Head hurt?”

  Rucker shrugged. “A little.”

  “Were you unconscious at any time since the explosion?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You plan on staying with Hayes tonight?”

  Rucker stiffened. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem with that?”

  “Not at all.” The doctor checked the scrapes and cuts on his arm. “That way we can keep an eye on both of you.” He nodded toward Rucker’s arms “I’ll have the nurse bandage some of those. Can’t have you getting a staph infection while in our facility.”

  “Doc, is Dash going to be all right?”

  The man captured Rucker’s gaze. “We won’t know until he wakes up. Head injuries can be tricky. We didn’t see any bleeding on the brain, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t any. Until he wakes up, we’re shooting in the dark.”

  “I’ll be here all night,” Rucker said.

  “Good. Sometimes, all it takes is a familiar voice to bring a patient back to consciousness.”

  Rucker dropped into the chair against the wall and waited.

  The nurse who’d shown him to the room returned with bandages and antibacterial gel. She had the lacerations on his arms dressed in a few short minutes.

  “Thank you,” he murmured as she gathered her supplies and left.

  It wasn’t long before they wheeled Dash into the room. He lay against crisp white sheets, his eyes closed, an IV drip feeding fluids into his arm. Some of the dirt had been washed away from his face. The cuts had been bandaged, and he looked like he was just sleeping.

  Rucker stood over his bed for a long time.

  “Dude, you better be all right. The team needs you.” He snorted softly. “Though we might have to rethink your being point man. Not sure how many hits you can take and keep on ticking.”

  Dash lay still, not moving or twitching at all.

  Rucker stared at his chest to make sure he was still breathing. He wasn’t on oxygen, and though he was hooked up to a heart monitor, the steady beep of the machine was reassuring. Still, they’d have to wait until he was awake to know the extent of the damage.

  Until then, Rucker would be there for him. He settled in the chair beside the bed. His body felt like it had been put through a rock tumbler. He had bruises and cuts all over, and his head felt like someone was pounding it like a bass drum. Ignoring the pain, he propped his elbow on the chair’s arm and leaned his cheek on his palm.

  He’d sleep with one eye open. Any movement on Dash’s part would bring him awake.

  Okay, so maybe he would close both eyes. The ringing in his ears from the explosion had dissipated. He’d hear Dash if he moved or moaned.

  Rucker would be there for Dash when he woke. That’s what friends were for. Dash would do the same for him.

  Not an overly religious man, Rucker found himself praying for his brother in arms. “Any bit of help you can give him would be appreciated.”

  Chapter 3

  “Nora,” a voice whispered loudly enough it woke her from a dead sleep.

  “What?” She sat up straight in her cot and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Am I late for work?” She squinted at Beth, the nurse she shared quarters with.

  Beth shook her head. “No, but I thought you’d want to know that the cute soldier you’ve been flirting with is in the medical facility. You might want to look your best when you go on duty.”

  Nora’s heart skipped several beats. “Why is he in the medical facility?”

  “They brought one of his teammates in unconscious. They were both caught in an explosion.”

  Nora blinked. All vestiges of sleep flew out of her head. “Is Rucker—Sergeant Sloan—okay?”

  “Seemed to be, though it took someone of higher rank to make him agree to being treated.”

  “Damned stubborn ass.” Nora threw back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the cot. “How’s his teammate?”

  “External injuries appear minor, but he hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  A frown pulled at Nora’s forehead.

  “I didn’t mean for you to go in early. I’m sure he’ll be there when you go on shift,” Beth said.

  “I needed to get up anyway. I’m on midnight to eight.” She frowned at her roommate. “How did you know I was talking to Sergeant Sloan?”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “It’s a small base with an active grapevine.”


  “Inga saw us in the chow hall?” Nora asked.

  “Who else?” Beth smiled. “And I’m glad she shared. How am I supposed to know what my roommate is up to if she doesn’t share all the juicy details?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think anything of it. He filled a space on the volleyball court, and we had coffee together. Nothing more.”

  “Uh huh,” Beth said with a sly side-eye look.

  “Seriously.” Nora shoved her feet into her boots and pulled the laces taut. “I’m out of here in a week. Not to mention, he’s enlisted. I’m an officer. Not only is fraternization taboo between officers and enlisted, it’ll get you court-martialed if you engage in it while deployed.”

  Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t stop you from thinking about it, does it?”

  Nora straightened and grimaced. “Not in the least. Why does he have to be so damned…” she held her hands out to the width of Rucker’s shoulders, “…sexy?”

  “Ha! I knew it. You finally found someone to drool over.”

  “For what it’s worth. Hello,” she said, “I’m leaving in a week. And I’m not going to act on my urges.”

  “But you do have urges.”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Thank God,” Beth said. “I thought you were going to enter a convent after your tour of duty.”

  Nora slipped her arms into her uniform jacket and headed for the door of their quarters, buttoning as she went. “I’m not a nun. He’s sexy but completely off limits.”

  “And that’s why you’re running out the door to get to him.” Beth’s laugh followed her from the building.

  As she ran toward the medical facility, Nora completed buttoning her jacket, twisted her hair into a tight bun at the base of her skull and secured it in place with the pins from her pocket. Then she jammed her hat onto her head and ran the rest of the way through the dimly lit streets of the base. When she arrived at the facility, she slowed, brought her breathing under control and walked in.

  “Lieutenant Michaels, you’re here early for your shift.” The female specialist at the front desk smiled as she entered.