Page 88 of Gravity
Dave. Rope hanging loose from his hand, running straight toward him.
“Cover us!” Stone shouted. Genesis reacted instantly, rifles up, scanning the line behind.
Stone didn’t slow. He knew the risk, knew the protocol.
He also knew there was no world where he didn’t run to him.
Stone’s breath came in ragged gasps, lungs burning. He wasn’t getting air—wouldn’t, not until Dave was in his arms.
Then Dave hit him, full force, solid, alive.
Stone caught him, crushed him close, and dragged them both to their knees behind a line of rock—out of sight, out of the kill zone.
Law, Rip, and Boston surged past, sweeping the perimeter. Viper and Sage held position, weapons up, eyes scanning for movement.
Real, Crow, Rebel, Black, and Winter were among the Genesis team that had come in on another helicopter and were now forming a tight ring nearby, weapons trained outward.
Stone’s focus stayed on the man in his arms. Dave’s heart slammed against his chest, breath rough and rasping until finally, he drew one deep, steady breath and lifted his gaze to Stone.
Dave gave him a crooked smile through the dirt streaking his face, and Stone caught the dark bruise forming along his jaw. His own clenched, but he said nothing—just pulled Dave to his feet.
Viper passed over a canteen. Dave took several grateful swallows, then handed it back.
When Dave raked his fingers through his hair, Stone had to fight the urge to kiss him.
Instead, he reached for the Sig Sauer at his waistband and held it out.
The whole ordeal had shaved years off Stone’s life. He wanted nothing more than to get Dave back to the ranch, make sure he was in one piece—but the mission wasn’t over.
Dave checked the pistol, hand out. Stone dropped a spare mag into it. Rip moved in next, passing him a sand-colored shirt and vest.
While Dave pulled the shirt on, Stone’s hands swept over him—arms, ribs, legs, cataloging every hit. Dave hissed when Stone’s palm brushed a raw patch along his side.
Jaw and ribs. He could live with that.
“How’s your breathing?” Stone asked, his fingers skimming lightly over Dave’s ribs.
“Don’t make me laugh, and we’re good.” Dave’s hand brushed his cheek—just a fleeting touch—and Stone’s eyes closed for a beat.
“And this?” he asked quietly, opening them again as his palm settled over Dave’s chest, just above his heart.
“Not slowing me down today.”
Stone gave a short nod. Dave pulled on the vest, and Stone tightened the straps himself, making sure they were secure.
“I’m running point. You got my flank?” Stone asked.
It came out like a question, but Dave heard what it was—an order.
He could override it, technically. But they both knew the team would bench him by force if it came to that.
Stone braced for the fight that never came.
“Always,” Dave said, slipping an extra clip into his vest.
“Time’s a-wastin’,” Law drawled from behind them.
“Ready?” Stone’s voice came out rougher than he meant.
