Free Red-Hot Santa by Tori Carrington Page B

direct shot and fell face first to the ground. Max instantly stopped and crouched, spraying their advancing enemy even as she checked their fallen team member. Jackson was pretty sure the man had taken it to the vest and was satisfied he would be okay when he awkwardly got to his feet with Max’s one-armed help. Jackson provided cover fire as the others boosted Evans up and over the wall, then each of them followed.
    Gunfire spit up the side of the wall, spraying cement fragments at him as he finally went over.
    He wasn’t surprised to find the sound of approaching vehicles outside. Disappointed, but not surprised.
    They rushed to Storehouse who looked out of sorts, an injured Taylor leaning against a nearby tree, armed and ready for combat.
    “Plan,” Jackson demanded.
    “Where are the hostages?”
    “Gone.”
    “Bullshit! Get back in there and get them!”
    “They’re not there to get.”
    The roar of engines warned of imminent danger. “Plan?”
    Lenny looked confused, and Jackson clearly saw panic settling in.
    He grabbed the satellite communication device. “Who do I radio for backup?”
    Lenny stared at him, half pissed, half scared. “Nobody. There is no backup. The SEAL team due to rendezvous with us was delayed.”
    “Exit point,” Jackson said between clenched teeth.
    “What do you mean there is no backup?” Polson, one of the other three of Storehouse’s team that had made it out, but not without injury as the blood spreading on his upper thigh revealed, demanded. “Oh, fuck. We’re gonna die, man. We’re gonna die…”
    Jackson shoved him toward the thick forest. “Not on my watch we’re not…”

11
    MAX HAD NO IDEA how they’d gotten away from the compound without further casualties. It had been part skill, part knowing how to utilize their surroundings, not to mention a massive infusion of luck, but a half an hour later there was nothing but the hushed sound of the team’s uneven, labored breathing in the pre-dawn light, the rainforest around them beginning to come to life.
    “Clear?” she said quietly.
    Jackson looked down at her. “Clear.”
    Polson trudged over and sat down heavily on a tree stump. “Thank God…?.”
    At some point in their retreat, Polson had regained his bearings and stood on his own two feet, feet that were now giving out. He collapsed to the ground and rested his head against his raised knees. Even Evans, who was by far more seriously injured, was holding up better than her male counterpart. A slight wince as she leaned against a nearby tree was the only giveaway that she was in pain.
    Even though it had been a good fifteen minutes since they’d last heard anything from their pursuers, it would still be a good idea to keep their breather brief and trudge ahead.
    She glanced over at where Jackson spoke to Polson. She noticed a ways back the right side of Jackson’s face and right arm were red with blood. His own? Or someone else’s?
    Minutes later, he came over to find her going through her bag.
    “What’s the plan?” she asked.
    “Exit near same place as entrance 1200 hours. We’re going make camp here.”
    “Is that a good idea?”
    “Is it a good idea to leave the same way we came?”
    Before she realized she was going to do it, she was touching the side of his face. His eyes widened slightly and she quickly withdrew her hand.
    “It’s yours, the blood…”
    He touched his fingers to it and then grimaced. “Spray from the wall, maybe.”
    How close he’d had to be to have the gunfire spit wall fragments hard enough to break his skin.
    He nodded to his right. “There’s a stream over there. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up while I make camp?”
    She gave him an amused smile. “Actually, I was just going to suggest the same thing to you.” She turned him in that direction. “Go on, I’ll help set up camp.”
    He looked doubtful.
    “Don’t make me give you a square kick,” she threatened.
    He chuckled and moved away with a couple