Page 249 of Wild Card

He’s back to hallucinating.

I begin to reply when his eyelids shutter and my insides seize.

His facial muscles go lax, his mouth parting.

The light of his pupils fades.

A rattling breath escapes his trembling lips.

Déjà vu slams into me, having seen this before. It’s not something anyone could ever forget.

His body is shutting down.

“Goddammit. Fucking crashing!” I get to my knees, ripping open his shirt and yelling for Ace.

“Roberts, you asshole, you’re not dying on me. I’ll reach into your chest and pump your heart myself!”

Max’s eyes close right as I start the compressions.

A cupof coffee appears in my line of sight and I decline.

“You did what you could.” Gage drops it in the trash and sits.

“Wasn’t enough.”

“He’s breathing.”

“He’s in a coma and on a goddamn machine keeping him alive.”

“He’ll wake up.”

I grind my teeth, tempering the anger simmering under the surface. If it would make a difference, I’d gladly knock the shit out of his Pollyanna positive outlook.

“We should have been there, gotten to them sooner.” A quick glance at Ford, Ace, and Major tells me they agree.

“Got the go-ahead and went in.”

His matter-of-fact smug tone sets me over the edge. In a nano-second, I have him pinned against the wall, nose to nose. “You ever been in the service, Gage? Ever had the blood of your men on your hands? Watched friends die?”

His eyes burn but he remains quiet.

“You served, you know time is of the essence. Diplomatic conversations at the local coffee clutch don’t play into missions. We find our guys and get them. End of fucking story. It’s my fault we have two guys in critical going through withdrawals and Max is on a ventilator. Of all the guys I could have picked, it was you. A goddamned fucking …” I trail off, knowing his identification is still classified.

“You think you picked me? You cocky son of a bitch, I saw you coming from a mile away. Who do you think tipped Ricardo off his sister was romancing an American boy on vacation?”

I tighten my forearm at this throat, rendering his words. “You wanted out.”

“Fuck yeah, tired of pussyfooting around with this shit. But unlike you, I’m not a renegade cowboy. There’s a bigger picture here. This wasn’t about three American Marines, it’s about millions of lives. Max Roberts knew what he was doing.”

“He’s right, Max knew.” A familiar voice cuts in the air.

My head swings to find Robbie, Finn, James, and a man in a lab coat with weary expressions, taking in the scene.

“Stand down, Simms,” Robbie commands.

“What the hell?”

Gage takes advantage of the distraction, shoving me to the side.

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