Page 248 of Wild Card

“Can you stand?” I catch the awkward angle of Max’s left leg.

“Get my guys out.”

“We’re getting everyone out. Tell me what I’m dealing with.”

“They’ve been pumping us with some kind of shit hoping we’d talk. Hayes and Black are in bad shape, unconscious.”

Ford’s gaze meets mine. Whatever it is in his system has him hallucinating he’s with Robbie and Finn.

“We gotta move, Meyer’s pulse is fading.” Ford’s fingers are at the man’s throat.

“Same,” Gage adds.

All three need carrying out. “Get a medevac helo ready,” I order into my com.

“On it,” Rand responds.

Boots pound on the stairs, the other guys surrounding us and taking in the scene. Ace crouches at Max’s side, hoisting him forward so we can get a lock under his arms and lift him.

“Jesus, Roberts, lay off the sweets,” Ace grumbles.

“Aww, Kingston, don’t be jealous. This is all muscle, baby,” Max slurs.

When we reach the top of the stairs, he clutches my shoulder. “Take me to them.”

“We need to get you to the van.”

“I need to see those fuckers myself.”

Ace tips his head and I nod, lifting my goggles to the light. We carry him to the living room where all four men sit upright in their chairs with single shots to the forehead.

“Do me a favor. Give that one in the blue another tap for good measure.”

“Can’t die twice,” Ace counters.

“Humor me. Fucker crushed my ankle.”

Ace pulls out his piece, aiming at the guy’s ankle and firing. Max gives out a wickedly sick laugh when fragments of bone fly.

Hugo is helping load Meyer and Pitts into the van, Ford shouting orders while Major grabs his medical bag.

Max rumbles when we get him inside, fresh blood seeping from his chest wounds.

Hugo slams us in, hopping in the passenger seat while Rand speeds away.

I’m not as skilled as Major, but I get started on hooking Max up to an IV for fluids.

Ford barks into the SAT phone, filling in Robbie on our status.

I scoot to the side, clipping the IV bag with the others and checking Max’s pulse.

“Meyers and Pitts,” he calls, his chest heaving at the effort.

Pitts stirs, groaning, “Yeah, boss.”

“Smartass.”

Max’s eyes glint in the dim light, locking with mine. “Nice job, Marine. Tell Black and Hayes they kicked ass.”

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