Thirty minutes later, they caught up with Baxter on the cusp of the ridge. “Rescue is inbound. At landing point in about forty-five minutes and counting.”
Hunt carefully set Cait on the ground and pulled her against his side when it seemed herknees would give out. “Well, hell. We aren’t even close, yet.”
“Want me to wave them off?” Baxter reached out a hand to steady her, too.
Hunt glanced across the trail. “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“At the rendezvous waiting.”
“Any bad juju waiting for us?”
“Not yet.”
“Are we spending another night on the mountain?” Carter shifted Quaid on his shoulder which only caused the man to groan deeply.
“No. We can’t.” Hunt bit out. “We’re pushing forward. We’ll deal with where our ride is when we get in position.”
“We could change the LZ.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. But let’s meet with the others first. We’re suffering from Murphy’s Law and need to hustle.”
Shoving emotion and need out of the equation, Hunt turned to Cait. “On my back, Doc.”
“Shouldn’t I check Quaid?”
She looked toward Carter. He had stood behind, never lifting the man off his shoulder.
Hunt presented her with his back. “Nope. Nothing you can do for him here. We’ve got unfriendlies too close for comfort. I don’t know how or even if they are communicating with each other, and I’m done with cat and mouse. Move and kill anything that gets between us and our ride,” he ordered the two men.
She didn’t acknowledge the comments, but she kept a firm grasp on his arm until she’d gotten in position behind him. He stooped and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up.
The trek consisted of slipping, sliding, and adrenaline surges. Every sound was questioned. The area where they could walk narrowed and narrowed again. But the three men made progress, and they all were silent as the center of a storm. Quaid remained unconscious.
They paused at a juncture. The others joined them from another path.
Thank God.
Doogie fell in step with Hunt. “Took you long enough.”
“Trouble. Keep moving.” His voice had turned rough and raspy, and he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t talk about how close he’d come to losing Cait.
Doogie raised a brow at his tone but remained his usual unperturbed self. “Doc, you okay?”
“Peachy,” she answered, keeping her words low.
“Quaid all right?”
“Who knows,” Hunt bit out. “He’s still breathing, and other than that we don’t have time to check.”
“We laid some more false trails and a few booby traps while we were waiting. Might help. Might not.”
Hunt accepted the news without comment and kept moving.
“Do you want to pass me to someone else?” She whispered in his ear.
“No.” He chose to focus on the physical instead of the fear of her being gone, the enormous grit she showed in plugging the guy with her knife, and the horrid burn in his back and ribs. Thankful for everything he’d learned in BUD/S training, he put one foot in front of the other and focused on kissing her again and again. Later.
When he shifted to pull her tighter to him, he felt the shiver that worked over her body. He’d lost track of how cold it was and how cold she might be.