Hot Zone (Elite Force 2)
He eyed the harried personnel and chose the least frantic of the bunch, a reed-thin woman removing the lab coat from over her camos. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
She turned and he took in the army insignia on her uniform and her name tag. A nurse, a lieutenant. “Lieutenant Gable, a minute of your time?”
She turned impatiently, took in his uniform, and her face shifted into a smile. “What may I help you with, Major?”
“I’m looking for a patient here, toddler, about a year old, named Joshua, a local boy recently adopted.” He stepped closer as he sidestepped to make way for an NGO worker pushing a cart of MREs and a crate of bottled water. “He would have been brought in with his aunt from the U.S., Amelia Bailey.”
Her brow furrowed with deep thought, Lieutenant Gable stuffed her hands in her pockets for a moment before nodding, “Right, right… I remember them, sweet lady and kid. Very lucky to be alive. They’re not here any longer. They must have checked out while I was on a break.”
Damn. Not unexpected, but frustrating all the same. “Anything else?”
“She had a military friend who came by a couple of times. I assumed he arranged a place for them to stay.”
Something didn’t sound right. “In the middle of the night?”
“We are in such desperate need of beds, when somebody can leave, we’re glad to have the space. Surely you understand.”
“Of course. Sorry.” These weren’t normal times. “A military friend? Male?”
“Definitely male and close friends with the woman. That’s all I know, Major. We’ve been very busy here.” She swept back a straggly strand of gray-streaked hair with a shaky hand. “I really need to get back to work.”
He backed up a step. “Thanks for your help.”
As the lieutenant jogged away, shoes squeaking, he stood in the middle of the two-way traffic in the hall, wondering what the hell to do now. He always had a plan of action, marching orders. But now? He didn’t have a clue where to even start looking.
Where could they have gone from here? How was he supposed to even know which way to search? There weren’t any bread crumbs or red arrows pointing the way.
But there was a scent.
The world seemed to slow around him and take shape as an idea came to him, one that made him a little more pumped than he should be feeling, given the current state of hell on earth around them.
But what if Rachel and her search and rescue dog could work another miracle here?
He couldn’t pull them off an active search for someone trapped in the debris. Although if she could give him half an hour to just point him in the right direction…
Pivoting on his heel, he jogged back out the door, down the steps. Once outside, the sun just climbing on the horizon, he broke into a run. His military uniform would get him past any roadblocks or checkpoints. Even with the debris, he could make it to Rachel’s quarters in under ten minutes.
No one looked twice at him running through the street like a madman. Nothing seemed unusual here anymore—well, other than running out in the street half-naked, wearing nothing but towels.
Had that been only a few hours ago?
This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be losing a man on his team. Yes, he understood it happened. Hell, it had happened far too often during his combat days as an Army Ranger. But he was in charge now. He controlled the missions and they focused on rescue, not combat. He refused to lose another brother-in-arms. And yeah, that made him overreact sometimes.
Like now, chasing down a missing team member who was probably just off trying to impress a woman. Except Franco never, never dated women with children since his wife and daughter died. Which brought Liam to his real fear—that this latest rescue had pushed Hugh over the edge. A dark thought, sure, but then morbid conclusions had a way of chasing him.
People thought Liam was a lighthearted son of a bitch who did a helluva Chuck Norris impression. He was just covering up the fact that his insides were so scarred up from burying fallen comrades he’d become like that old Charlie Chaplin tune his mama liked to sing through her cancer treatments, “Smile, though your heart…”
Shit. He cut the morbid thoughts off short. Morose garbage never saved anybody and it wasn’t going to find Franco for him.
Although if Franco was off kicking up his heels, playing house with the Bailey chick and her nephew…
Yeah right. The chances of that happening were next to nil. The only thing Franco avoided more than commitment was kids.
He sprinted past his lopsided quarters, the cottage still hanging out on the edge of the cliff at pretty much the same scary-ass angle as before. Stopping at the next house, a yellow and green little place with porches all the way around, he tugged his camo top smooth again. The door was covered with plywood over where a glass panel must have been. He knocked hard, twice.
Footsteps echoed from inside, along with a couple of deep barks. The door swung open and Liam almost swallowed his tongue. Rachel wore skimpy gray cotton shorts and a T-shirt without a bra.
He had more serious things to think about than how her ni**les strained against well-worn cotton and how her brown hair tumbled around her shoulders as if calling to his hands.