Page 78 of Rescue Me (Tempting SEALs 6.10)

No wabbit stew. But the experience had been just as fulfilling.

He didn’t have fulfilling in mind today. He had survival. Fortunately, he had the added advantage of Jake and Benny having IQs less than the combined wildlife population in the area. And he didn’t have trapping in mind. He was more of a mind for crushing.

He scanned the cliff face—and spotted exactly what he was looking for. A huge boulder, precariously perched on a ledge. Unstable as hell. At least it looked that way.

If he could manage to tie the rope around the base without dislodging it, control the trajectory of the fall by wedging some stones under it to help guide it—he was golden.

He was sweating like a butcher, dizzy and nauseated by the time he finished a series of loops and knots then climbed back down the cliff, dodging beaver tail and prickly pear cactus as he went. There was no way to camouflage the rope on the rock face, but since it could conceivably be mistaken for a long tree root or a vine, he figured he was safe. Once he reached the bottom, he covered the rope with sand and, using grass to cover his tracks, swept his way into the brush.

Then he lay in wait. Sweat running into his eyes, stinging like hell. Head pounding like a jackhammer.

He’d rested for all of a minute when he heard voices. Then the sound of the chopper.

He glanced up the cliff where Elena lay hidden. Felt his heart slam like a clean-up batter, bottom of the ninth, tying run on third and he was sitting with a three–two count.

If anything happened to her. If … Jesus, if she got hurt … or …

No.

He wasn’t going to think that way. She was steady. She was solid.

His vision blurred. He fought it. Fought the pain and the light-headedness.

It was showtime. The boys were just in time for the curtain to go up.

ELENA FELT THE VIBRATION of the chopper’s engine clear to her bones. It zoomed in from the west and hovered a hundred yards above the spot where Seth said it would land, and not more than twenty yards north of the cliff where she lay in wait.

The bird started its slow descent and the vibrations increased as dust kicked up by the rotor wash stung her face and her eyes.

Closer. It was getting closer.

She was bone-deep scared. So scared she just wanted to have this over. So close to panic she wanted to start hurling rocks right now! Wildly. Blindly. Just get it over with.

She made herself wait. Made herself lay there. Still as stone. Still except for the trembling in her limbs, her erratic breaths and the staccato beat of her heart in her chest and her ears and her throat.

“Hurry. Hurry. Hurry,” she whispered, willing the bird down, down below her.

An eternity passed as it slowly descended. Then an eon as the sound of the blades slammed into her ears and the dust swirled like a tornado stinging her eyes and peppering her skin with grit.

“Hurry!” she shouted aloud, her voice drowned out by the engine roar.

As if her edict actually held sway, the dust settled in an instant. Stunned, she lifted her head.

Below her. The chopper had finally dropped to hover below her, pushing the rotor wash with it, stilling the air above the blades, stirring up a circle of white caps directly below.

Now. She had to do this now!

Reacting with a pure adrenaline rush, she shot to her feet, grabbed the first stone and hurled with all her might.

And missed.

She didn’t hesitate. She picked up another. Threw another, another, another.

Missed again.

Yet again.

Roaring with frustration and fear, she dug deep, drew a steadying breath and made one final, powerful throw.

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