the camouflage shirt he wore underneath it. It was damp with perspiration and probably didn’t smell too good, but it was the best he could offer her under the circumstances.
She accepted it silently, slipping it on and buttoning it clear up to her neck.
Blue had to give her credit. After her initial surprise and fear, she now gazed back at him unflinchingly. Her eyes were clear and brave. He’d seen brown eyes like hers somewhere before, a lifetime ago. The owner of those eyes had been fifteen years old, too….
Lucy. Little Lucy Tait. Hell, he hadn’t thought about her in years.
Blue glanced at his watch, double-checking to make sure his pack was secure. According to the plan, diversionary tactics should be just about ready to start. Blue took a deep breath, looked down at Karen and quietly asked, “Can you walk?”
The young girl stood up. The tail of Blue’s shirt came all the way down to her knees. “Better than that,” she said stoutly, “I can run.”
Blue smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Well, all right. Let’s go.”
They were halfway through the brush, when Blue heard the first shots ring out. Joe Cat and H. were right behind him, and he sensed them both turning toward the sounds of the skirmish, wondering which men of Alpha Squad were involved, wishing they could go toward the fighting and provide backup.
“This is the wrong way,” Blue heard Karen gasp. She pulled free from his grasp, looking wildly around.
He took her arm again. “No, it’s not—”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I tried running this way before. There are nothing but cliffs. There’s no path down to the ocean. We’ll be trapped!”
The kid had tried to escape. Blue marveled at her guts. She was tough. Again he couldn’t help but think about Lucy Tait. He’d been a senior and Lucy had been a little freshman, and the first time they met, she had been getting the stuff kicked out of her by a gang of kids. She was bloody and clearly the odds were against her, but she had a defiant lift to her chin and a “you can’t beat me” glint in her brown eyes.
Cowboy’s voice came in over Blue’s headset. “Cat! About four tangos broke free. They’re heading in your direction!”
“Copy that,” Cat replied. He turned to Blue. “Go.”
“We’re going to parasail down to the water,” Blue told Karen. “There’s a boat waiting for us.”
She didn’t understand. “Parasail? How?”
“Trust me,” he said.
Karen hesitated only a fraction of a second, then nodded.
Then they were running again, this time without Cat and Harvard on their heels.
The forest opened up into a field, and Blue felt vulnerable and exposed. If one of the terrorists broke through Cat and Harvard’s ambush… But they wouldn’t.
“Knock the hell out of them for me,” he said into his lip microphone, and he heard Joe Catalanotto chuckle.
“You bet, buddy.”
Blue stopped at the edge of the cliff and made adjustments to his pack so that Karen could be latched against him and they could parasail down to the water together.
She didn’t complain, didn’t say a word, although he knew that the proximity of his body to hers had to remind her of the brutalities she’d endured over the past four days.
But he couldn’t think about that; couldn’t wonder, couldn’t focus on her pain. He had to think about that ship bobbing in the darkness, made invisible by the night.
He flipped on the homing device in his vest, reassured by the series of blips and beeps that told him the ship was indeed out there.
“Hold on,” he said to the girl, and then he jumped.
* * *
Blue was on the deck of the USS Franklin when the chopper carrying the rest of Alpha Squad touched down.
He looked closer, trying for a quick head count. It was a reflex from the time all those years ago when Frisco had gone down. He hadn’t been KIA—killed in action—but he may as well have been. He still hadn’t recovered from his injuries. His leg had damn near been blown off and he was still in a wheelchair—and still mad as hell about it.
Frisco had been Alpha Squad’s unofficial goodwill ambassador. He had been friendly and lighthearted, quick to talk to and make friends with everyone around him. He had a sharp sense of humor and a fast wit—he soon had strangers laughing and smiling wherever he went. And his friendliness was sincere. He was a walking party. He always had a good time, whatever the situation.
In fact, Alan “Frisco” Francisco was the only SEAL Blue knew who actually enjoyed basic training’s endurance test called Hell Week.
But when Frisco was told that he would never walk again, he’d stopped smiling. To Frisco, losing the use of his leg was the worst thing that ever could have happened to him. Even worse, maybe, than dying.
Blue watched the men jump down from the big bay doors of the helicopter. Joe Cat—his dark hair worn longer and tied back in a ponytail, his stern face relaxed in a smile nearly all the time now that he was married. Harvard—his shaved head gleaming like a coffee-colored bowling ball, looking big and mean and scary as hell. Bobby and Wes—unidentical twins, one big and tall, the other wiry and short, yet they moved in unison, finished each other’s sentences. Lucky O’Donlon—Frisco’s swim buddy. And the new guy—Cowboy. Harlan “Cowboy” Jones—temporary replacement first for Lucky on the same rescue mission that had injured Frisco, then temporary replacement for Frisco. Except it had been years and years, and it sure as hell looked as though temporary had turned pretty damned permanent.
They were all there, and they were all walking and breathing.
Joe Cat spotted Blue and moved in his direction.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Blue nodded, heading with Joe toward the stairs leading below deck. “The doctor checked out the girl,” he drawled. “She’s with the shrink and the support staff right now.” He shook his head. “Four days, Cat. Why the hell did it take them so long to let us go in after her?”
“Because the average politician and top-brass pencil pusher doesn’t have a clue what a SEAL team can do.” Joe Cat unfastened his battle vest, heading directly toward the mess hall.
“So a fifteen-year-old girl is brutalized for four days while we sit around with our thumbs up our—”
Cat stopped walking, turning to face Blue. “Yeah, it bugs me too,” he said. “But it’s over now. Let it go.”
“You think Karen Branford is gonna just let it go?”
Blue could see from Cat’s dark eyes that the CO didn’t like the answer to that question. “She’s alive,” he said quietly. “That’s much better than the alternative.”
Blue
