Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (18 page)

“So we still have thirty-five miles to go?”

“’Fraid so,” he said, apology in his voice. “My first priority is getting you to as safe a place as possible. Then we can lay out a plan for moving south.”

Her legs felt tired, and she could feel the beginnings of cramps in her calves, but Callie wouldn’t complain. Beau had enough on his mind to keep them from falling into enemy hands or worse. She managed a sour smile. “I’d give anything to be in that tub at the Eagle’s Nest right now.” She watched amusement gleam in his light gray eyes for just a moment.

“I’ll get you back there. Maybe not as soon as you’d like, but it’ll happen. Just hang on, Callie.” He patted her damp, muddy knee. “Come on, I need you to hydrate. If you don’t keep drinking water, you’re gonna cramp up, and that’ll be painful.”

Callie drank until she couldn’t drink anymore, and Beau drank like a camel. He then pulled two protein bars from a pocket, handing her one after he peeled it open for her.

“Two things we have to do: eat and keep hydrated. We’re burning up thousands of calories right now, and we’ve got a long way to go. Eat it all, okay?”

She did. The rain was thickening until it was a constant gray veil all around them. Sounds became muted, the drops plopping regularly on her jacket’s hood and shoulders.

“Is this rain helpful for us?” she asked, hoping for good news of any kind.

“Yes, very. If it keeps up like this, and I hope it does, it can potentially wipe out some of our tracks on the floor of the woods.”

“Beau, are you scared, too?” she asked him, savoring the sweet, tasty grains of the protein bar.

“Nah. This is routine for us.” He gave her a wry smile, wanting to reassure her and dull her fear. “We’re trained up for this, and you aren’t. We know the dance out here in the badlands, Callie.”

For the next two hours, drenched by rain falling softly around them, they made their way along the riverbank, always hidden by the line of trees. Callie never saw any enemy but heard gunfire from time to time, and that was all she needed to know they were out there, still hunting them.

Beau was a consummate hunter himself, reminding her of her grandpa Graham, who had taught her and Dara how to find and follow deer tracks. She didn’t like to see any dead animals, so her grandpa had never allowed the girls to follow him deep into the Montana mountains where he actually went hunting.

Now she was getting a firsthand look at what Delta Force operators did, and if she’d thought their work was dangerous before, she had a whole new perspective on it now. Beau and Matt went out into godforsaken places like this, hunting down HVTs—high-value targets—and keeping the people of this country safe while they routinely laid their own lives on the line to do it.

Yes, Dara had every reason to worry about Matt. Callie was sure that if they were still alive, Dara also had a deeper appreciation for what he did than before. What motivated them to do this kind of thing? Patriotism? It was beyond Callie to understand how one could live in constant danger like this.

*

Near 1500, Beau
could feel Callie really beginning to lag. She was stumbling a lot and fighting to keep up with him, and he could feel her nearing a point of exhaustion. After finding a small cave nestled in one of the larger hills near the river, Beau led Callie through a wall of thick, tall brush that swatted at their faces and bodies. He gripped her hand and brought her close to him, using his own body as a shield to protect her as they popped out the other side, revealing the dark entrance.

Unsure whether or not the cave was occupied, Beau signaled her to move to one side of it and stand quietly while he went in to see if anything or anyone was in there. M4 raised, he crouched and disappeared into the gloom.

After five minutes, he gave her the all clear. Beau led her inside the cave, and guided her to its rear and then down a tunnel. Grayish light spilled into the other end of it, lighting their way. The area was oval, with rocks jutting out here and there, the limestone walls a combination of interwoven shades of white, light gray, and cream. There was another exit, a slender opening that looked like a ragged slit a giant hand had carved into the limestone with a huge blade.

“We can talk here in low voices,” Beau reassured Callie, halting her in the small oval cavern. He released her hand and began to unbuckle his ruck, pushing it off his shoulders. “Make yourself at home.” He smiled a little, hoping to lighten her mood with some positive news.

Callie slowly pulled the wet hood off her hair. Looking down at her muddy gloves, she pulled them off and sighed. She wished she had a comb as she tried to regather her hair into a ponytail, but the band holding her strands together had broken a while ago.

“Here,” Beau urged, taking a dry blanket out of his ruck and placing it alongside the smoothest wall of the cave. “Set your gloves on some of the rocks and let them air-dry.”

“And my coat, too?”

“That too,” Beau agreed. He pulled out an empty plastic gallon jar from his pack and walked over to the slit, setting it down so the water could run off one rock and drip into it. He added purification tablets to it, just in case. In Afghanistan, bacteria could quickly infect and/or kill you if you drank untreated water.

The air in the cave was warmer than the outside, humid air. Glad to be rid of his vest holding pockets of ammo magazines, Beau put everything on one end of the blanket, where he could grab it in a hurry, if necessary.

“Have you been in here before?” Callie asked in a quiet tone. She was so happy to get out of her coat and hung it on a nearby jagged outcropping.

“Many times. Our team has camped in here during the daylight hours and then we go active at night.” He stripped down to his dry T-shirt and cammos, taking off his baseball cap, running his fingers through his long, thick hair.

Giving Callie a critical look, he saw her fingers were white. Moving to her, he took her hands into his, feeling how cold and wet they were.

“They’re pretty numb,” she admitted, standing so close to him that she could feel the heat rolling off him. Even though the temperature was falling and it was chilly outside, they had been hiking at a fast, steady pace.

“Let’s get you warmed up then,” he growled, releasing her hands. Turning, Beau pulled out a sleeping bag from his ruck. He laid it out and opened it up. “Come here.”

She came over, feeling how stiff her knees felt, how tight her calves were, screaming at her to sit down and rest.

As if reading her mind, Beau said, “Come on, sit down with me. I want to get you warmed up.”

“Best invitation I’ve had all day.” Callie grinned weakly, coming to sit on the soft sleeping bag.

Beau’s arm went around her shoulders, drawing her against his tall, lean body. “You’ve earned this,” he breathed against her hair, kissing her temple, wrapping her up beside him. She melted like warm honey against him, and he could feel her exhaustion. Callie, he was learning, was pretty good at hiding her feelings from him. However, Beau needed her to be honest about how she was doing so he could pace himself against her condition.

She wrapped her arm around his middle, snuggling beneath his arm, her face pressed against his chest, her knees drawn up against his lower body.

“Better?” he asked, inhaling her scent, closing his eyes for just a moment, loving her more than he could tell her right now. Beau could feel a slight tremor through her.

“Better,” Callie whispered. “I needed this . . . thank you . . .”

He looked at her, concerned. “I want you to rest, Callie. Close your eyes. If you can nap, that would be great. We’re safe in here.” That was a lie.

“We aren’t leaving here soon, then?”

Hearing the hope in her voice, he said, “We’re staying here until dark. Then it will be time to move again. You’ve got about two hours to nap. I’ll hold you safe, gal.”

His words put out the fires of her anxiety, and Callie sighed, surrendering to Beau in every possible way. Her voice slurred as she whispered, “I’m worried about Dara . . .”

“She’s in good hands with Matt. They’ll be okay,” he reassured her, sliding his hand down across her unruly red hair, the ends damp and rain-sodden. “Save your energy for yourself, Callie. Go to sleep . . .”

An hour later, Beau sat there on guard. One of them had to remain awake and alert. His mind whirling with thoughts, questions, he couldn’t help wondering how Matt was doing. Dara wasn’t nearly as fit as Callie, and he knew Matt would have his hands full trying to escape with her in tow.

Fortunately, his team had been trained to deal with unexpected conditions as they were, not as they would be if ideal.

He had let Callie think they were safe, and he held her, sharing his body heat with her, hoping it would dry her, warm her, and help her recoup. Night was a natural protection against the Taliban, who still didn’t have night-vision goggles. Therefore, at night the enemy always camped somewhere, made tea, ate dinner, and then slept throughout the night.

Taliban were usually active only during daylight hours. Beau never took that as gospel, though, because some warlord from Pakistan might spend the money to buy his soldiers night-vision goggles. That would allow them to roam the night like the Delta and SEAL teams did.

His heart turned to Callie, and he looked at her tenderly. Her hair tickled his cheek, and he ached to take her out of this hellhole they’d just stepped into. Thirty-five miles, plus the seven miles they’d already walked to the river, was a lot for any person to undertake. It wasn’t unusual for his team to cover ten to fifteen miles a night, depending on the territory and geological conditions. His body was so toned physically that without Callie in tow, he could have been halfway to Bagram by now—and a hell of a lot farther from the Taliban he knew were tracking them.

Callie. Damn, he was proud of her. She had been brave, hadn’t complained once, and had kept her tears to herself. All she’d shown him was fierce determination in those green eyes of hers. She had heart, but he’d always known that about her. Callie was a fighter. She wouldn’t sit down and cry or be a victim saying she couldn’t do something. No, she’d stepped up to the plate, done what was asked of her, and kept up at the best speed she could. Damn, he loved this woman.

Beau moved that word around inside his head, allowing it to finally penetrate his heart. They hadn’t known each other that long, but from the first there had been something beautiful growing between them. He’d known they’d be good in bed together, and he hadn’t been disappointed.

The biggest hurdle was getting Callie to allow herself to maybe love him someday. Beau knew without question that he was falling in love with her. But their relationship was young and this unexpected ambush could shatter the dream he held for them, even if he was able to get her to the safety of Bagram.

She felt so damn small, soft, and curvy beneath his arm now, huddled up against him, her arm wound around his waist. He could feel the slight rise and fall of her breasts against his chest, exuding her special womanly fragrance.

He wanted to dream, damn it, but right now, sitting in this cave, knowing the enemy ranged this area routinely, he didn’t dare unleash his imagination. He’d wanted to dream of a future for them, but now, this. Neither of them would have a future if he couldn’t get Callie safely out of this hot mess.

His mind turned to Matt and his sat phone. If Matt could get high enough up a mountain peak, if the weather conditions cooperated, he might be able to shoot a call off a passing satellite, beaming it down to their HQ at Bagram.
Maybe.
Matt was probably wondering what had happened to them, as well. If he tried to raise sat phone contact with Beau, he’d fail and figure something had happened to the sat phone, or that it had low batteries. He wouldn’t think the worst because equipment failed routinely out here in this unforgiving land.

But the worst could happen. And Matt had expected Beau to make that call to Bagram, to get two QRFs, Quick Reaction Force, out here to pick them up. But that wasn’t going to happen. Ordinarily, Beau would not have felt as bad as he did right now because it was common for Delta Force operators to be pitched out into enemy territory without any means of contact. Radios went on the blink all the time. Some got shot up.

Communications in Afghanistan sucked at best, due to the interference from the mountains, and this was one of those inconvenient times. He did know one good thing: Matt had filed a mission plan with their HQ on going into this village: he’d advised that if they didn’t arrive back at Bagram by 1700, the captain should put out an alert to find them. It was near three p.m., so two hours had to pass before their CO would hit the alarm button, knowing they were missing.

His mouth twisted as he watched the rainfall outside the cave slit. Drones didn’t do well in this kind of weather, so none would be launched. He was aware that, being up in the mountains, Matt and Dara had probably run into one helluva snowstorm. While Beau and Callie were getting rain now, which was a mixed blessing, that could change, too.

His mind grappled with the realization that no action would be taken to find any of them until there was a big improvement in this messy weather.
Damn it.