Friendly Fire (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 3) (33 page)

"Ma'am, you're safe now," Tristan said to Katherine, though she continued to wail. "Let's get you back to your family."

"See, Sammy, I told you that you could never hide from me," Juliet teased her niece.

Avoiding the bodies, Jeremiah ushered them swiftly into the dark building while the CIA contingent swept the yard for survivors and began the cleanup. It was over. However, until the hostages were airborne and flying out of Mexico, Jeremiah knew he couldn't let his guard down. Fortunately, he could hear the extraction helo surging closer.

The smell of the building's interior brought on a weird sense of déjà vu.

"We're almost out of here," he said to Emma, who had yet to speak.

"Bullfrog, Sam needs your help stabilizing the kid," Tristan informed him as they started up the stairs. "Apparently, he shot and killed César Salvador. No one knows where the pistol he used came from."

Guilt knotted Jeremiah's intestines as he realized what must have happened. Noah must have overheard Joe telling him where the gun was hidden. Brave kid, he'd used it to defend the hostages. But damn it, if he died, Jeremiah would feel more than partially responsible.

"I'll take the ladies to the roof," Tristan offered.

Loath to let Emma go when he'd just gotten her back, Jeremiah dropped a quick kiss on her ice-cold cheek. "I'll be right back," he promised.

Her dazed and unresponsive expression shot an arrow of concern through him.

She's just in shock
, he assured himself, even as he watched her put her arm around her daughter and disappear up the stairs with Tristan.

Stepping into the room where he'd spent so many hours as a captive, Jeremiah crossed to where Noah lay. All of the hostages aside from Noah's mother and Joe and Cheryl had been evacuated to the roof. César's body lay in a dark corner, along with a man Jeremiah didn't recognize—probably one of the
capo'
s thugs.

Lt. Sam Sasseville, who hovered over Noah with a penlight clutched between his teeth, looked up at him as Jeremiah crouched opposite him to assess the patient. The boy had lost consciousness along with a lot of blood, given his pallor and the size of the scarlet puddle beneath him.

"What have we got?" he asked.

The lieutenant had cut away Noah's T-shirt and taped his midsection, using Jeremiah's kit that they always carried.

Taking the penlight out of his mouth, Sam directed it at the wound. "Kid took a bullet to the abdomen. I can't tell what organs were hit. His vitals are weak, but they haven't changed since I started monitoring them. So that's good, right?"

Noah's mother shook Jeremiah's shoulder. "Please don't let my boy die." Her voice quaked with grief. "I've already lost my husband. I can't lose him, too."

Jeremiah glanced up at her and nodded, though he was wary of speaking any more promises that ultimately were out of his control.

But Master Chief had just entered the room. "He's in good hands, ma'am." Drawing Noah's mother to one side, he spoke reassuring words to her.

"You did a great job here, sir," Jeremiah said to Sam while opening his medical kit. "Let's get him on a saline solution. When the medics arrive, we want to strap him to a plastic backboard stretcher to keep the bullet from traveling. Joe will need one, too." He gave a nod to the policeman waiting patiently with Cheryl beside him, holding his hand.

With a throbbing sound that grew louder, the helicopter hovered over the building preparing to land. Sliding an IV needle into Noah's arm and freeing the contents of the bag to flow into him, Jeremiah took one last look around the room that had housed them for several days. The rescue hadn't happened the way he'd envisioned it, but most of the hostages had survived—with the uncertain exception of Bert and Joan. And, of course, Noah still needed to pull through.

"Come on, kid," he muttered, willing his pulse to grow stronger.

Plaster sprinkled the short hairs on Jeremiah's head as the helicopter presumably touched down. He held his breath, waiting to see if the old but sturdy building would support its weight. But the roof did not collapse, and a minute later, two medics from the crew swept into the room carrying stretchers.

Jeremiah made certain they strapped Noah securely to one of them. Kuzinsky escorted Noah's mother and Cheryl up the stairs. Then he, Sam, and the medics followed, helping to carry Noah and Joe to the roof.

Once he'd delivered them into the hold of the helo, Jeremiah joined Emma where she stood with the other hostages behind the entrance to the stairs and away from the MH-60's rotor wash. Juliet was doing her best to normalize the situation.

"Oh, shoot, I forgot to buy souvenirs before we left," she joked, ruffling her niece's hair. "Didn't you want to get one for the refrigerator, Em?"

Sammy managed a smile, but Emma stood with one arm around her daughter, her jaw decidedly clenched, staring into space.

Nudging her chin up, Jeremiah forced her to meet his gaze. "You okay?" he asked.

With a frisson of alarm, he wondered if she'd been raped during his absence. What had happened to the confident woman who'd kissed him good-bye, and where was the kiss she'd promised to give him every time he came back to her?

Master Chief moved up behind him and spoke into his ear.

"The attaché from the American Embassy wants you to stay with the hostages through the debriefing process."

Grateful not to have to leave Emma just yet, Jeremiah nodded. "Great."

"The helo's going to fly you all to Fort Sam Houston so the two injured can get medical attention at Brooke Army Medical Center. The rest of you will be evaluated for twenty-four hours and debriefed. The media's going to want a statement. Of course, you'll want to avoid getting your picture taken and no personal interviews."

"Goes without saying," Jeremiah agreed. The Army's largest and busiest medical center sounded like a five-star vacation destination, especially if he got to stay there with Emma while they all received a little TLC.

"I expect they'll shuttle you back to New Orleans after that to collect your things. Are you holding up okay?"

Jeremiah met Kuzinsky's dark gaze. A wave of familial affection rolled through him. Kuzinsky wasn't more than twelve years his senior, but the firefights he'd survived made him the granddaddy of all SEALs. Jeremiah grinned down at him. "I'm good, Master Chief. Thanks for everything."

Kuzinsky slapped him on the back. "See you back at Spec Ops on Monday. Go on. Get out of here."

Jeremiah turned to the others. "Time to board, everyone. Let's go home."

* * *

"Juliet!" Tristan shouted her name a second time, but she still ignored him. Abandoning his watch post, he sprinted across the roof through the gale caused by the helo's rotors, catching hold of her arm just as she put a knee into the hold.

"What?" She rounded on him angrily, proving she'd heard him calling all along.

Most women looked like witches when they were angry. Juliet just looked sexy.

"I just wanted to say, good shooting out there. Unlike most guys, I admit it when I'm wrong, and I was obviously wrong about you not being able to help us. You caught the
capo
's men totally off guard—us, too, by the way."

He almost laughed aloud as her mulish expression melted under his praise. God, he would miss teasing her!

"So, thanks," he added, aware that the rotors were accelerating. Taking swift advantage of her astonishment, he leaned over, caught her chin in his hand, and planted a bold kiss on her slightly parted lips.

"See you soon, gorgeous" he swore backing away as a crewmember slammed the cargo door shut between them.

The Seahawk's rear wheel lifted off first and then the front two. As it swept higher into the dark sky, Tristan felt his eyes sting. He told himself it was the wind from the helo drying them out, but the weight in his chest let him know that it was more than that.

Hell! He missed her already.

Juliet Rhodes wasn't like any woman he had ever known. And that was a crying shame as she was probably the only woman in the world capable of resisting him. But he'd be damned if he was going to let her slip away from him just like that. For a SEAL, quitting wasn't an option. At the cost of humbling himself, he was going to make her his girlfriend. Shoot, he might even marry her one day—if she would have him.

But then he remembered her ultimatum:
Don't date anyone for six months. Prove to me that you have no unsavory addictions or deep-seated issues. Then I might date you.

He could do that. Sure he could. Couldn't he?

For her, it might be worth it.

Chapter 20

Jeremiah rapped tentatively on the hospital door three rooms down from the one he'd been assigned. Over the sounds of the seven-story hospital—the bustling of feet, the squeaky wheel on a gurney, a doctor being summoned over the intercom—he strained his ears for Emma's reply. The colorful murals on the corridor's walls made the memory of the stark factory building seem like a distant nightmare.

Gaining no reply to his knock, he glanced at his watch. Surely Emma, Juliet, and Sammy, who'd been allowed to stay together, were awake by 1 p.m. Granted, they hadn't landed on the helicopter pad on the roof of Brooke Army Medical Center at Fort Sam Houston until three in the morning. And then they'd been delivered into separate examination rooms.

By the time Jeremiah had been looked over by a doctor and showered the grime from his aching body, all he'd been good for was sleeping. But he hadn't been so tired that he hadn't craved Emma and Sammy's proximity. Knowing they were safe had helped him to relax and drift off to sleep.

Eight hours later, he couldn't stand another minute apart. He lifted his hand and knocked more loudly. To his relief, a voice called, "Come in."

Anticipation put a smile on his face as he pushed into the room and found Emma standing by the window. Dressed in a peach sweater and cream-colored slacks, no one could have known by looking at her rested face and brushed hair what she'd just gone through. He himself had been supplied with military attire, a set of worn BDU's with no name over the pocket and pair of boots that didn't quite fit.

Their eyes met briefly as she glanced over her shoulder at him, sending him a faint smile. But then she returned her gaze to the scene outside, and the concern Jeremiah had entertained the night before reared its head again.

Crossing the room to her side, he took note of her body language. She stood before the sunlit window with one arm across her midriff, elbows tucked close to her body, fingers curled toward her palms. The dazed expression she'd worn since he'd escorted her from
El Cuchillo
's body still lingered on her face. Only a hint of color had returned to her pale cheeks.

As she met his gaze again, he could tell by the haunted look in her eyes that she was still processing what had happened.

"Where's Sammy?" he asked, glancing toward the other two beds in the room. They'd all been allowed to sleep together, he realized, feeling left out. One of the beds overflowed with stuffed animals, presumably donated by the same charity that had provided the clothing.

"With Juliet," Emma said, nodding toward the bright green maple trees lining the lawn below them.

Peering through the branches, he spied Juliet walking hand-in-hand with Sammy, who appeared to be smiling and looking none the worse for her ordeal.

If only the same were true for Emma. "I had trouble sleeping without you near me," he admitted.

Her gaze flickered briefly toward him then slid back out the window, and still, she had nothing to say.

"It's okay to be shaken up by what happened," he persisted. "You should never have had to experience violence at that level."

A hint of moisture put a sheen in her soft blue eyes, yet she kept quiet.

A terrible thought occurred to him. "Do you blame me for not coming back sooner?"

"What?" She swung a startled look at him. "No, of course, not! You risked your life for us. If not for you and your teammates, God knows where Sammy and I would be right now."

Relief tempered the despair starting to close around his heart. "You'll be okay, English," he repeated. "It takes time to shake off the negative energy. When you're home again and everything goes back to normal, it'll seem like a bad dream."