Page 86 of Under Fire

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Warren

“What the fuck is going on?” Master Chief Rose stomped up the tarmac to where Warren stood.

Keeled over, Warren grasped at his chest. He couldn’t tell what was in more pain—his back or his heart.

“Get the med kit,” the master chief ordered a guy to the side. “Is this a fucking heart attack?”

“I’m fine,” Warren said through clenched teeth.

“You’re not fucking fine. What’s the goddamn problem? Can you breathe?”

“I’m getting on that pl—” Warren couldn’t finish his sentence, wheezing through the last word. He felt his cell vibrating. He whipped it out, seeing a missed message from Brooke.

Katy had a little tumble. She’s fine but keeps crying for you. Do you have a minute for a short call again?

“Christ,” Warren said, reading the message several times. Whatever phantom knife was digging through his chest just twisted, splitting his ribs. His guilt was driving the pain…he knew it. The message from Brooke only drove him further—to go to Katy, see her in person one last time.

“What the hell is going on with you? Is this for real?”

Warren looked up, locking eyes with his boss. “It’s my conscience. I’ve got something I need to do.”

“I can give you an hour.”

“I don’t want to leave my guys in the lurch. We’ve worked damn hard.”

“They’ll be fine—because you trained them right. You’ll be no good to anyone dead. Go get it done then get your ass back here.”

Gripping his cell, Warren glanced over his shoulder at his team. Half of the guys from his team were on the ramp, watching, waiting. He grasped the concern in their eyes.

“Let’s do this,” Warren said, spinning toward his truck.

One hour. Don’t waste time.

* * * *

Throttling down the highway, moving faster than he should, Warren listened to Brooke’s line ringing and ringing. She wasn’t fucking answering, and he was losing it.

Finally, she picked it up.

“Warren, sorry. Aren’t we going to do this by video?”

“Look… I’m coming your way. Is Katy okay? What the fuck is going on?”

“She took a bad fall down the stairs,” Brooke said, breaking into tears. “I think I should take her to be seen.”

“Call the fucking ambulance!” he growled, nearing snapping his steering wheel in half from stress.

“No, Warren, Katy doesn’t need an ambulance.”

Katy’s crying intensified in the background, burning into Warren’s chest.

“I can’t fucking fly there,” he said. “Jesus. She needs the ER.”

“No, she does not—” Brooke started.

“Yes, she goddamn does.”

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