The prince staggered and scrambled to get his footing in the dry leaves, as he tried to get away from the four-man patrol that was now in hot pursuit.
Thomas could hear them coming, closer and closer, making four times the noise as they crashed through the brush.
And he knew exactly what Tasha was thinking as he glanced back into her eyes—that she thought it was time to give herself up. She still believed that she was the one the hostiles were searching for, and she was ready to launch her last-ditch, sacrificial Plan Z.
She was ready to trade her life for theirs.
Not only was she wrong, but Thomas could do this. She had to let him try. Four to one were not great odds, but when the one was a Navy SEAL, armed with a rifle and a shit-ton of luck and good karma...
He shook his head at Tash, just the slightest of movements, silently telling her “Trust me.”
He saw her hesitation and fear. If he was wrong, if he failed, she was going to watch him die, and she knew it—he could see that realization in her eyes.
“Stop or I’ll fucking shoot to kill!” The first of the patrol had crashed into view, his voice shrill with his own fear—not a good indicator that this was going to end peacefully.
But Ted didn’t stop, and time hung as Thomas looked into Tasha’s eyes for what he knew could be the very last time. “Love you,” he told her silently.
And she did it—she trusted him. She nodded.
Her lips moved. “I love you, too.”
And Thomas dove away from the hide, throwing himself toward the cover of that enormous tree, with his weapon already aimed at the man drawing a bead on the prince.
Thomas’s sudden movement made the hostile’s shot go wild, saving Ted’s life.
But it drew the man’s fire to Thomas, and Tasha flinched, desperate to know if the gunman’s second shot had also missed, praying that the tree had kept Thomas from being injured or killed. Please God, please, please God...
Thomas fired back—he wasn’t dead!—and the gunman fell, but now the rest of the patrol had crested the mountain top and they were shooting at him, too. There were three of them, and one of him, and Tasha had never felt so utterly useless and terrified in her entire life.
But she knew if she moved or announced her presence, they’d aim those guns at her. She wouldn’t get to speak—“Wait, don’t shoot! I’m the one you want!” They wouldn’t listen even if she shouted. And Thomas would lose what little chance he had of surviving this as he threw himself in front of her to shield her from their bullets.
Trust me. She did trust him. She forced herself to stay very still even when one of the hostiles moved close enough to the hide for her to hear his unsteady breathing.
He had some kind of radio—or maybe a walkie-talkie. He was using it to call for backup. “We need help,” she heard him say. “Tim, it’s Emmet, we’re under fire, can you hear me, over? I think it’s the SEAL—that motherfucker just will not die.”
That was bad. That was really bad. One against three was one thing. But one against twenty...?
“Goddamnit, Tim,” the man said. “Where the fuck are you? We need backup now, over!”
Tasha looked wildly around her, searching for a large enough branch among the brush that covered her. The biggest was maybe three inches thick.
That didn’t seem to be big enough, but it was going to have to do.
From the corner of his eye, as he kept the second and third hostile from killing the prince by shooting one—two down, two to go—and driving the other back, Thomas saw the fourth gunman duck directly behind the cluttered brush of Tasha’s hide.
Not good.
From his current position, he didn’t have a clear shot that wouldn’t endanger Tash, so he threw himself out from behind the tree, staying low, even as he shouted, “Get to cover!” at the stunned and clearly overwhelmed prince.
“I’ve been shot,” the prince shouted. “I can’t! My leg! I think it’s broken!”
Somehow Ted had been hit—his blood bright red against the brown leaves. Thomas grabbed him to pull him back toward the same tree he’d used for protection.
The prince said something that sounded like “Wait!” before it melted into a howl of pain.
Yeah sorry no, not waiting. Thomas dumped him there—“Stay down!”—and scrambled around toward the back of the hide when—Jesus!—Tasha erupted from the tangle of branches, screaming and swinging a branch like a baseball bat.
She hit the fourth gunman squarely in the head, knocking him down and back, giving Thomas a clear shot.
“Tasha, get down!” Thomas shouted as he fired—three down, one to go—but she was ahead of him, already diving toward the same tree that now sheltered Ted.
It was a miracle she hadn’t been killed—that third and final hostile was out there somewhere, hiding. Somehow, in the chaos, Thomas had lost track of him, goddamn it—a potentially deadly mistake.
“Thomas, Ted’s unconscious and there’s so much blood!” Tasha’s voice was strained as Thomas crept forward, searching for a glint of the thin, fading sunlight on a rifle barrel, listening for the sound of stressed-out, ragged breathing.
“Use your towel-scarf as a tourniquet,” he called back. “Tie it tight, between the wound and his heart.”
“Please hurry. The man I hit had a walkie-talkie,” Tasha told him. “He called for backup.”
And there it was—movement in the brush in front of him. A branch, trembling. Thomas took careful aim and...
But Tasha shouted, her voice sharp in the stillness: “Behind you!”
As he was turning, muzzle flashes exploded—two of them, simultaneously, shots ringing out—not from behind him but from the cover of the brush way up ahead of him, just this side of the ridgeline.
In that split second, as he braced for bullets to tear into his body from all directions, time seemed to stop and he knew it was over. He was dead. “Tasha, run!” he shouted.
Because the attacker’s cavalry had arrived.
He’d failed at this, the most important mission of his entire life.
But in that split second, he knew one thing for goddamn sure: he was going down fighting. And maybe, just maybe he could buy the time for Tasha—his achingly beautiful, vibrant, funny, perfect-for-him Tash—to get away and hide.
In that split second, he raised his rifle to take out the last man in the patrol—only to watch the gunman fall, pushed back and down. Killed by the shots fired from the ridgeline, from bullets that had gone just over Thomas’s head.
He’d take that good luck and double it. He turned back toward the gunmen on the ridge, ready to hold them off for as long as he possibly could. He shouted again, “Tasha, run!”
But the brush on the ridgeline parted to reveal two men with their hands and their weapons held up for him to see as one of them shouted down to him, “Hold your fire, LT, it’s Rio and Dave!”
Rio.
And Dave.
It was, absolutely, his teammate, his BUD/S swim buddy, Rio Rosetti and... yeah, that was Dave Patterson up there, too.
The gunman behind him hadn’t been killed by luck and friendly fire.
His teammates had taken him out, saving Thomas’s life.
He’d made a nearly fatal mistake by losing track of that last gunman, but that was okay. He was okay. Tasha was okay. They were gonna be okay.
Because the cavalry that had arrived in the literal nick of time were U.S. Navy SEALs.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Were you hit?” Thomas shouted at Tash as he came sliding in to help with Ted, exactly at the same time she shouted, “Are you hurt?” to him.
“No!” They shouted back at each other, in close to unison, with Tasha adding, “Run? Seriously? You really thought I would run?” But she didn’t wait for him to respond because: “That man I hit—he had a walkie-talkie. He called for backup. We need to get out of here.”
What she really wanted to do was to throw herself into Thomas’s arms, and maybe even
cry a little in relief that he was okay—that they were going to be okay, because oh my God Rio Rosetti and Dave Patterson had appeared out of the blue, like some kind of twin SEAL deus ex machina. Instead she scrambled back, to give Thomas more space to assess the damage to Ted’s leg. There was so much blood, but he loosened and then even removed the tourniquet she’d tied.
“The bleeding’s not that bad,” Thomas told her as he worked. “Small caliber bullet—I have no idea how that happened—the hostiles all had rifles. The good news is there’s a clean exit wound—and the bullet didn’t hit bone. The breaks in his tibia and fibula—down near his ankle—must’ve happened when he fell.”
“Did he hit his head?” she asked. Ted was still unconscious. She’d checked for a bump or contusion—or God, another bullet wound—but had found nothing.
Thomas did the same now, too, and shook his head. “He was alert before—I think he passed out from the pain. I wasn’t gentle when I moved him back here.”
Understandably.
He glanced up, tossing a terse “Rosetti, make sure Tasha wasn’t shot,” over his shoulder to Rio, who’d come to assist.
Thomas clearly didn’t trust her to accurately assess her own physical health, and she couldn’t really blame him. It had only been a few short hours since she’d failed to notice that she’d been shot—ish—in her arm. For all Thomas knew, she had a long-standing habit of not-noticing when she was wounded and bleeding.
“Nice to see you, too, LT,” Rio said as he signaled for Tash to turn in a circle while he checked her for bullet holes. He beckoned her closer, leaning in to stare hard into her eyes, looking for signs of shock, as he reported, “We got an SUV parked just down the mountain; gravel road on the other side of the perimeter fence. Tasha’s good.”
Out of all of Thomas’s friends and teammates, Tash had always found Rio to be the most annoying. In the past, he’d teased Thomas mercilessly about having a teenaged best friend, but Tasha currently didn’t have even the slightest urge to punch him.
In fact, she’d never been more glad to see him, ever, in her entire life.
True, two SEALs and an SUV were a far cry from the swarm of helos Thomas predicted would be coming on that very first night they’d huddled together for warmth in their very first hide. But she had zero complaints.
Rio gave them a swift rundown of why the rescue op was limited as Thomas swiftly fashioned a splint for Ted’s broken leg, using the fleece belt from his “pants” to tie it in place.
A series of attacks by homegrown terrorists in several U.S. cities meant that the helos and their crews were a little busy. Also, all nonessential flights had been—and were still—shut down. Rio and Dave had driven cross-country—three thousand miles—to get to Maine, at the request of Uncle Alan, who was fine, but also busy.
Very, very busy.
“What are you wearing?” Rio asked incredulously as the “pants” sagged down to Thomas’s thighs, revealing the cheerful red plaid he wore beneath.
“Long story,” Thomas said shortly. “You got a med kit with painkiller? Morphine, ketamine?”
“Good idea,” Rio said. “Ketamine will make those pants look so much better—oh, you meant for the prince.” He got serious. “Med kit’s in the SUV. We got fence cutters, too, LT.”
“We need to move.” Thomas raised his voice. “Patterson!”
Dave appeared almost instantly. “Yes, sir. Hey, Tash. Everything’s still quiet out there, but we probably shouldn’t linger. But while I was taking photos of the scene for my new FBI overlords, I found this.” He held out a small handgun. “I think maybe it’s Prince Tedric’s...?”
“Absolutely not,” Tasha said. “Ted doesn’t even like it when his security detail carries firearms.”
“Report from the admiral said he was armed with a handgun,” Rio countered.
“It explains the small caliber wound in his leg,” Thomas said.
“Uh oh,” Dave said. “You think he shot himself? I mean, accidentally, but... Damn.”
“Help me get him into a fireman’s carry,” Thomas ordered.
“I did not have that on my bingo card,” Rio said as he moved to assist. “I had Ted gets shot by the bad guys, and Ted shoots us, but not Ted shoots himself.”
Dave pocketed the weapon. “Let’s not give this back to him soon, then.”
As they started to lift Ted, he roused, moaning in pain, and struggling to get away from them.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re friends, I’m Lieutenant Thomas King, U.S. Navy SEALs,” Thomas told him, but it wasn’t until Ted spotted Tasha that he calmed down.
“Tash! Natasha!” He reached for her.
“I’m here, Teddy.” She knelt next to him, taking his hands.
“Are you okay?”
“I am,” she reassured him.
“Damnit,” Thomas said. “I was hoping he’d stay unconscious longer.”
Ted was groggy, dazed, and it was clear that moving, even just a little, was terribly painful. “Thank God,” he breathed.
“Did you hit your head?” she asked him.
“No, but I shot myself. Christ, it hurts. I was trying to get my gun and I fumbled and it went off. I’m an idiot.”
“How we doing this, LT?” Rio asked. “We need to get out of here.”
“What are you doing out here?” Tasha asked Ted. “Didn’t the security team get you to safety?”
“Moving him’s gonna hurt him like hell,” Thomas said.
Ted glanced up at that. “Not moving hurts him like hell, too.” He looked back at Tash. “They flew us out via chopper. But no one went back for you. They just left you. I was furious. Did you find the shelter?”
“We did,” she reassured him. “We ate your corn flakes and your disgusting almond milk.”
Ted laughed a little at that. “I knew you were too much of a smartass to die,” he said. “Shit, this really hurts.”
“Try to stay still, Your Highness. We’ve got some serious painkillers in the SUV,” Thomas said. “Dave, run and get the med—”
“Dave, don’t,” Ted countermanded the order, even though it was clear he didn’t know who was Dave and who was Rio. “We need to get out of here. Now.” He pushed himself up so that he was sitting and the pain made him sweat. Still he said, “I can walk. I can do it.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna walk on that leg, Ted,” Rio told him. “But you get mad points for suggesting it.”
“I can carry you, Your Highness,” Thomas said. “But it’s going to hurt.”
“Do it,” Ted said. “Please.”
Thomas nodded. “Dave, run ahead, cut the fence, get that ketamine ready.”
“On it, sir.” Dave vanished.
“Tash, help me get these off.” Thomas pushed the “pants” down past his knees—without the belt, they wouldn’t stay up. She helped him—the legs were wide enough for her to pull them off right over his boots.
“I’m so ready for this truly awesome, long, red-plaid story,” Rio said.
“Help me with that fireman’s hold,” Thomas ordered him.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Wait, this is crazy,” Tasha said as Rio helped Thomas pull Ted up and onto his shoulders as Ted tried not to scream. Ted wasn’t as jacked as Thomas, but he was close to as tall and nearly as heavy. “Why not let Rio and Dave help you carry him?”
“It’s easier this way,” Thomas told her, already starting up the hill at a pace Tasha had to hustle to keep up with.
“It’s a balance thing,” Rio explained. “Also, Dave going ahead to cut the fence is a good plan. It’ll be much easier to take Ted through the fence than over it.” He held out a hand that she grabbed to keep from tripping over a tree root.
It still seemed surreal that he and Dave had swooped in to save the day at the exact moment Thomas needed them the most. With a car parked conveniently nearby, to boot.
“How exactly did you...?” she’d asked Rio in out-of-breath gasps as he caugh
t her hand again to keep her from sliding down the hillside on her butt. “Where did you...?”
Somehow he knew what she was asking. “We were following the prince,” Rio told her. Like Thomas, he was also able to talk in full sentences while he fast-marched. It was clearly a Navy SEAL-related skill. “He broke out of lockdown to try to rescue you, which might sound heroic, but is fuh-ricking stupid. One man, in a Honda with a handgun that he doesn’t know how to use...? Since we were already heading out here to search for you, we got sidelined to reel Ted back in. Heads up, because we’re not the only ones who were pissed about him going rogue like that. The Admiral is very unhappy. I wouldn’t want to be your fiancé right about now. Not for all the crown prince’s horses and all the crown prince’s men.” He laughed.
“Ted’s not my fiancé,” Tasha said, but Rio clearly didn’t care, he was too busy being pleased with his Humpty Dumpty reference. Like Tasha hadn’t heard that joke forty-seven million times since she’d gone to work for Ted.
But then, as they slipped through the hole that Dave had already cut in the fence, Tasha saw not just the SEAL’s mud-and-bug-splattered SUV, but the car—a tiny Honda—that Ted had been driving, and it suddenly all made sense.
The SEALs had followed Ted here.
And Ted wasn’t here by accident.
He’d intentionally parked as close as he could to the end of the escape hatch tunnel. He’d no doubt intended to go in through the bomb shelter’s front entrance, where he could access the lock. But his obvious plan had been to get her to his car—and subsequent safety—as easily and efficiently as possible by exiting with her through the escape hatch, and then crashing through the woods the relatively short distance down the hillside to his waiting car.
It was a damn good plan. She suspected even Thomas would agree.
And since Thomas and Tasha had been using that very same escape tunnel to leave the pod, they’d been there, on the same side of the mountain, when Ted finally arrived.
And because Rio and Dave were hot on Ted’s trail, they’d been in the exact right place at the exact right time, too. Thank God, but thank Ted, too.
King's Ransom: (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Book 13) Page 27
