“Shit,” Saint muttered, his tension rising.
Shadow let out a whistle. Saint came running as Taco slowly approached. The circle of men glanced down at a pool of blood and Leo’s bloody pack. His phone lay broken next to a rock.
Saint swallowed. “Did they take him already?”
“No,” Taco said quietly. “I just came from the trucks.”
Nodding, Saint said, “All right. He can’t have gone far. We’ll take this back with us.” He picked up the gear and phone.
Shadow palmed his forehead. “Wait. We’re idiots. Call Tex and ask him to locate Leo. If he sends us the coordinates, we can get to his ass. Obviously, he’s hit.”
“We can’t,” Saint confided. “He forgot it. Grace took it out of his bag when he repacked everything. She put it in her mouth, and he left it out to dry.”
“Fuck,” Shadow whispered. “Split up. Does this appear like footsteps here?”
Saint knelt, studying the indent. “It might be Leo. There’s blood splatter over here. Maybe he fell to his knees?”
The men searched the area until dark. Bringing out their night sights, they scoured the area where they last saw the leader and friend.
When the sun rose over the desert, Saint called a halt. “We need to work in shifts. We have to check on the rest of the team. I’m calling Rebecca. She may be able to get us some help. Leo’s name opens doors.”
“We can’t leave him,” Shadow said.
“We’re not,” Saint denied. “We need to regroup. We’ve scoured the entire area, and there’s no sign of him. Someone knows something. We need Sparky to talk to the rebels. Maybe they will know where Leo went or who’s holding him.”
“Good idea,” Shadow said. “Leo would want us to take care of each other.”
Saint shoved Shadow. “Don’t talk like that. He’s not dead. It’s Leo. He’s probably figuring out a way to get back to us. Someone has to have him.”
Shadow shoved Saint back. “We will not tear each other apart. He’s our brother, and we won’t do him any good bythinking with our emotions. Take a glance at the puddle of blood and his belongings. They’re coated. No one can lose this much blood without receiving medical help, right, Patch?”
The group turned toward their corpsman. “It’s a lot of blood,” he said quietly. “We’ve searched for hours. Without medical intervention, chances are slim he made it. Let’s be real. What kind of care will he get from anyone around here?”
“Leo will fight,” Saint said. “He has a family.”
“We all have families,” Taco said. “We know the risks of this job.”
The men stood in silence, unable to comprehend Leo was gone.
“Let’s return. We’ll make some calls, check on our teammates, and schedule shifts. We won’t leave him here. You have my word,” Saint said, recognizing his new status as second in charge, making him sick to his stomach.
The men climbed into their vehicles, their chests heavy with sorrow and worry.
They checked in with the guard.
Glancing at them, he handed their credentials back. “Your teammates, Sparky and Sergeant Taylor, are being held for an ongoing investigation.”
“What the fuck?” Taco said. “What investigation? We took down an entire unit of traitors.”
“They killed three men and wounded another inside your barracks,” the guard informed them.
They parked their truck, and everyone got out.
“Shadow, check on Sparky and Sergeant Taylor. I’m headed to the infirmary with Patch,” Saint ordered. “Taco, you head to our barracks and take pictures before they kick you out. Grab as much of our stuff as possible. We don’t need anyone grabbing our computers or anything else. Hollywood, stay with the dogsand guard the truck. Then, circle the area. Keep your ears out on what they’re saying.”
“Will do, bo—” Taco couldn’t say it, and Saint clasped his shoulder. “It’s only temporary. We’ll find our brother,” he assured him.
* * *
