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The hand sticking up, moved, and her knees threatened collapse from relief. Fleet was alive. Who knew his condition, but they’d deal with that as soon as they got him up and out of his hole.
“Wait,” Cisco yelled sharply, grabbing her arm as she would have lurched forward the final few steps.
She narrowed her eyes up at him, unable to stop the growl that rose up from her throat. “Wh—"
“Let’s make sure nothing’s booby-trapped,” Cisco broke in to state sharply. “We don’t know what kind of bastard took him, and what they’re capable of, but we need to make sure Fleet’s safe to move.”
Completely reasonable.
“Thanks, Cisco.” Talia took a step back.
Normally the careful one, she realized her emotions were running high and had threatened to override her common sense. She was never happier to have Cisco as her second in command right now. The man was smart, though at times acerbic, and had kept her from what might have been a fatal error.
There was no doubt Cisco deserved to have a leadership position within the team. She’d heard through Everlee that Squad B’s leader had run into a conflict of scheduling, and was stepping down. She’d have to put Cisco’s name forward as his five-star replacement.
Talia regrouped.
“McGee,” she sent out. “We need you front and center.”
Squad D’s leader, Hops, was the team’s foremost ordnance specialist.
“Copy that. I’m thirty seconds out.”
He arrived in twenty, nodding his understanding as he took note of the scene. Cisco had kept everyone ten feet short of the indentation in the ground, and Hops, his eyes moving constantly up, down, and sideways, moved forward slowly and methodically. He swept the area with his flashlight, looking, Talia knew, for trip-wires or detonator pads. He kept them apprised as he worked.
“No ground cover has been disturbed on the far end of the depression, nor on the opposite side. All the action took place here,” Hops shone his light on a pile of dirt and brush that had clearly been excavated from the shallow hole. “…and here.” He showed drag marks and churned up scores on the groundcover that indicated where Fleet had been pushed into the hollow.
“Good news? We can move in. I’m not seeing any signs of explosive devices.”
* * *
Explosive devices?
That was the last thing Fleet had expected to hear. He’d heard a voice mention booby traps, but he’d thought maybe…Indiana Jones type stuff? Like nets scooping people up. Ropes dragging people into trees. Snake filled pits to fall into. He wanted to give a wry laugh. Nope. Not his luck. Just some plain old bomb shit. What kind of fucked up fate would get him pulled from his shallow grave, only to be blown up?
But the man had given the all-clear, right?
Fleet pushed back his slightly hysterical panic.
More rustling sounded toward his left, his right, his head, and foot. The footsteps were painstakingly unhurried, and Fleet wanted to scream his frustration, but nope. Fried vocal chords; not the intentional vocal fry that so many young women these days effected.
Fleet needed to chill. He knew they were just trying to keep him safe.
When he finally felt a warm hand surround his where he’d managed to keep it upraised, Fleet felt like crying. Or maybe he was crying. He couldn’t yet feel much of his face in order to tell.
“We’ve got you, Fleet.” Talia’s voice was music to his ears; a score he would write as soon as he was back in his studio.
* * *
“Goddammit,”Talia swore under her breath as several squad members began uncovering Fleet. What kind of bastard would do a thing like this, and why? She hoped Fleet had some answers for them, but doubted it. She dug to uncover his face as the team worked on his body, and as soon as his visage was clear of all debris, she saw him open his lovely dark eyes.
“Hi Fleet,” she whispered, her heart in her throat. “You have no idea how good it is to see you. Hang tight. We’re going to have you out of there in a minute.”
He blinked his understanding, and Talia barely choked back a sob. His brain hadn’t been affected.
She was going to find and destroy the bastard who’d done this to Fleet. It was the utmost in cruelty. To bury someone alive when they were aware, but unable to move? Mental torture to a degree that Talia had never seen.
Fleet’s johnny-clad body was slowly revealed under thick clods of dirt and leaves that luckily, had been hastily thrown over him and were easily removed. By the time they had him exposed, it was clear he was nearly hypothermic. His skin was freezing cold to the touch, and held a blue tinge.
