Free Prisoner (Werewolf Marines) by Lia Silver Page B

she and
Charlie would go into hiding.
    And a week or a month or two months later,
Charlie would lie ashen in a hospital bed, like DJ lay in the
passenger seat now. But unlike him, she’d never get up again.
    “You were imagining it, right?” DJ asked.
“Now try again, but give it a happy ending.”
    “There isn’t one.”
    “Come on,” he coaxed. “Run away with me,
Echo. We’re only about five hours from my parents’ home. I don’t
invite every girl to come meet my family, so you should feel
special.”
    “You’re unbelievable. I bet none of the girls
you invite ever show up.” Echo flipped on the radio. “Wildfire
Base, this is Echo. Mission accomplished. Prisoner is alive and
conscious, but in need of medical attention for heat stroke, shock,
and a laceration to his wrist.”
    She clicked off the radio and added to DJ,
“And a terminal inability to know when to quit.” Turning the radio
back on, she continued, “I’ve administered first aid. ETA is
forty-five minutes. Over and out.”
    “Still not too late,” DJ suggested. “If you
turned around now, you’d have a good long lead before they even
realized anything was wrong.”
    She started driving, determinedly watching
the sands rather than him. If she didn’t reply at all, he’d
eventually give up.
    “If you tell me exactly how and where they’re
holding your sister, I could come up with a plan to rescue her. Or,
actually, this might be better— we rescue my buddy first, then he comes up with a plan. He’s more of a strategist than I
am.”
    DJ paused to catch his breath. “You know I’m
a born wolf, right? My family knows every born wolf in the
Philippines, and a whole lot of the wolves in the US. And you know
how wolves are— do you know how wolves are? They’re clannish.
Loyal. If a wolf they trust asks them for a favor, they’ll move
heaven and earth to do it. Just let me get in touch with my family.
I’ll get together a strike force of badass wolves and take this
place down. Without your sister getting hurt. I’m sure…”
    The pause stretched out until Echo looked
over. He’d passed out in mid-sentence.
    While he’d been going on and on, making
demands she couldn’t fulfill and offering happy endings he couldn’t
deliver, she’d wished he’d shut up. But it was eerie to see him so
silent and still, his bright eyes closed, his expressive features
slack.
    Echo floored it back to the base. She was met
in the underground parking lot by a handful of nervous medics, a
crowd of wary security guards, and Mr. Dowling.
    Mr. Dowling stepped up as she got out of the
Humvee. “Good job, Echo. I knew I could count on you.”
    “Of course,” she replied absently, watching
the medics load DJ on to a gurney.
    As they strapped him in, DJ woke up and
started to struggle, shouting hoarsely, “Roy! Suppressive fire, ten
o’clock! Weiss, get down! Get down!”
    A medic circled him with a syringe, but
couldn’t find a still target. Blood began to soak through the
bandage around DJ’s wrist as he threw himself against the
straps.
    “DJ!” Echo grabbed his hand. He was burning
up again. “Stop fighting!”
    He whipped his head around, angry and
confused. “Get Suarez! We need the radio.”
    “You’re not in combat. You have a fever.
You’re delirious.”
    “No— Really? Are you sure?” DJ started to
relax. Then he spotted the medic trying to creep up on him, and
began thrashing around again, yelling, “I’m a US Marine! Drop your
weapon!”
    “Back off!” Echo snapped at the medic, who
obeyed. Then she turned back to DJ. “You’re sick. Let the medics
help you.”
    “But Roy— He’s out of ammo—”
    She squeezed his hand harder, so he’d be sure
to feel it. “You’re hurting yourself. Lie still.”
    To her surprise, he did. She nodded at the
medic, who edged forward and jabbed the syringe into the bulging
muscle of his shoulder.
    DJ didn’t seem to notice. Urgently, he said,
“My buddy needs help.”
    “He’s