Page 59 of Boomer
That was the last thing Bash heard before he blacked out.
Suddenly, the world came back in stages, hot, raw, and entirely unwelcome. He coughed, breathing in clean air.
His throat felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. Smoke burned behind his eyes, and his chest ached like it had been caved in and patched with barbed wire. There was noise everywhere, boots thudding, radios crackling, someone shouting for more O2, and then, suddenly,laughter.
That couldn't be good.
He groaned, shifted, felt gravel bite into his spine. Something cold pressed against his face, a mask? Yes. Oxygen. The relief of it flooding his lungs was heavenly.
A shadow loomed.
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” a voice drawled, smug and far too delighted. “We were about to vote on who had to do mouth-to-mouth.”
Bash blinked. Everything blurred, then sharpened, Breakneck’s grinning face hovering over him like a victorious hyena.
He coughed, throat sandpaper-rough. “Who… won?”
“Boom Boom was up,” Breakneck said, voice dripping with mock gravity. “Let me tell you, he was lookingdeeplyconflicted.”
Bash turned his head and immediately regretted it. The world spun.
Boomer stood off to the side, arms crossed, looking like he’d just walked out ofThe Iliad. Soot-smeared, blood-striped, completely unbothered.
“I was going to use the tactical tongue method,” he said without so much as a twitch.
Bash groaned and threw an arm over his face. “Just let the smoke take me next time.”
Breakneck snorted.
Then, of course, Taylor walked by. Humiliation demanded an audience.
She wasn’t unmoved by the humor, but she said seriously, “I’m so thankful you’re okay.” She leaned down. “Be careful. You might come to love these guys.” Damn if her words didn’t resonate.
Breakneck lost it.
Boomer didn’t smile, but his eyebrows lifted, barely. “You gonna tell anyone I carried you out,” he asked, “or should I start writing the eulogy now?”
Bash didn’t move.
“You’re all insufferable,” he muttered.
From somewhere behind them, Preacher’s calm voice floated in, “Yet we breathe life into you.”
Bash didn’t reply.
Mostly because he was busy plotting Breakneck’s slow and artfully inconvenient revenge.
But also…because a part of him, small and traitorous, was still stuck on the image of Boomer walking through fire to get to him, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with that.
Taylor was waiting,arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. She stepped close, adjusted the last strap on his vest, and said it low but notlow enough, “You just can’t do it, can you,mein Hübscher Sprengmeister?”
Boomer froze.
Behind him, Breakneck coughed into his hand. “What was that?”
Hazard blinked. “Did she just call you...spicy sausage?”
GQ was already pulling out his phone. “Hold on. I got this. German translator app.”
