Please, please be right now.
And suddenly the speed slowed. The plane seemed to hiccup midair. Hard, steep and fast, the
C-17 descended, landed.
Lights sparked in front of her eyes as if all those bees in her brain had become lightning bugs. She swayed, grabbed the back of Crusty's headrest to steady herself.
He patted her arm. "Breathe, Major. Breathe."
"Oh. Yeah." She exhaled, gulped in two more breaths until her world steadied and she remembered to listen.
To Jack. On the ground. Alive.
"Alpha, which way do you want us running?" Jack asked.
Oh, God, to think he could sprint out of the plane into enemy territory. She tried to envision where the Rangers might be now.
"Haul ass toward the medivac plane," Colonel Cullen instructed. "I'll have some of my guys cover your six."
Monica gripped the headrest harder, her world flipping all over again, with relief this time. She would see him in minutes. She needed to hold him, warm, solid and alive. Time to quit running from the fact that she loved Jack Korba. Fully. Completely. Not someday, but right this minute and forever.
"Will-co, Alpha," Jack answered. "Heading for the medivac plane pronto. In fact, that works good for me. 'Cause I believe I've been shot in the ass."
Sweat making tracks through the grit on his men's faces, Drew issued orders in person and over the radio. Sand rode the night wind, thicker by the minute. He inched the Ranger wrap cloth higher over his mouth and nose.
The battle had been won but their work wasn't over. The airfield was secure. The compound taken. Korba's crew was safe in the medivac.
Gunfire only echoed in his memory now instead of his still-ringing ears. Fast, furious and efficient, they'd implemented their attack plan. Reports of wounded trickled in, but so far no KIA—killed in action—on their side. All their preplanning paying off.
Drew issued orders to begin SSE—sensitive site exploitation—for booby-trapped buildings and un-captured stragglers. Still no sign of Ammar al-Khayr yet. But they would find the bastard.
Something they needed to do fast with the sandstorm rolling in. Once the storm hit, they would have to lock down tight until it passed, which gave those stragglers who were too damned accustomed to sandstorms a chance to maneuver.
He checked his watch, looked up at the opaque sky.
"Colonel!" called a lieutenant from a cement outbuilding twenty yards ahead at the perimeter. "You're going to want to come check this out."
Al-Khayr? God, he hoped he was seconds away from seeing that sadistic son of a bitch.
From the open door, a sergeant escorted someone down the cinderblock steps...another Army sergeant? A man he thought they'd left at the air base.
"What the hell are you doing here, Sergeant?"
"I was ambushed, sir," he answered while shrugging off the last of the knot binding the rope around his wrists. Apparently he hadn't gone down easy if his split lip and torn sleeve were anything to judge by.
Shit. "On patrol?"
"No, sir. A request came in from one of the NGOs for medical assistance for a woman having a tough labor. The officer in charge back at air base assigned me to escort the nurse."
Nurse? A bad, bad feeling spidered up his instincts. "The nurse? One of our military nurses?" he asked, already knowing damned well they would have all been loaded up to go or already out in the field with his group.
"No, sir. We had a volunteer—"
"Colonel," shouted one of his Rangers from across the path. "I think we've got someone over here, too."
Drew charged across, heart thumping in his head as loud as the wind pounding against his ears. It wasn't her. The bad feeling increased with every step closer to the cement outbuilding. It wasn 't her. Closer to muffled sounds growing louder.
He would not let it be her.