His face clouded. “You expecting company?”

“Maybe. No sign of any forces nearby, as far as I was able to check, but best to be prepared.” She shrugged. “I figured they’d be better protected and better able to defend themselves if they were dug in.”

“So what are you doing in here instead of out there with them?”

She grinned. She’d missed him—missed his counsel and the understanding that required no words. He knew, without her needing to say, what they faced. His courage fed hers, and she hoped she gave a little of that back to him. “I can’t get you down into the bunker without moving your leg more than I want to. You lost a lot of blood but things are stable now.”

“That must be why I feel about as strong as a gnat.” He raised his head and looked around. “Supply tent?”

“More or less.”

“They’ll check it.”

“Yep.” If they got by her, but he didn’t say it. Didn’t need to. “That’s why I’m about to drag your sorry ass into the back where you won’t be lit up like a neon sign that says shoot me.”

He nodded. “Give me a gun and as much ammo as you can spare.”

“Without saying.” She crab-walked around to the head of the litter, gripped the wooden poles that supported the canvas bed, and slowly pulled him backward across the dirt floor into the far reaches of the tent, to where anyone casually checking from the doorway might miss him. She knelt beside him again, took his automatic from her belt along with an ammo clip, and put it all next to his right hand. “You probably won’t need to use this, but it’s got a full clip and there’s a spare there.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Hunker down outside and shoot any fuckers that get close.”

He laughed. “You should’ve been a SEAL, Deuce.”

“Wrong equipment.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “I’m pretty fond of mine, but maybe it’s overrated sometimes.”

“Different strokes. Besides, I’d rather patch holes than make ’em, but you do what you have to, right?”

“True.” His mouth twisted and he exhaled sharply. “Listen, if things go sideways, tell Laurie it was quick. I don’t want her picturing all kinds of shit.”

“We’ll be okay.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Keep your head down, Deuce.”

Max smiled, remembering Rachel’s fierce whisper. “Planning on it.”

She left him because she had no choice, just as she had left Rachel and Amina. She’d rather be beside them, her body a shield, but she couldn’t protect them all. She picked a position on the far side of the camp where she had a clear view of the spot where the rebels had emerged from the jungle earlier. Chances were if they came back, they’d return the same way. She crouched and watched and waited, listening for a change in the night sounds with half a mind, the other half-tuned for a burst of static on the radio that would tell her help was on the way. When the first explosive rumble shook the air, close enough for her to feel the vibrations through her knees where she knelt on the ground, her pulse leapt. Adrenaline surged, the call to action overpowering fear. Finally, it had begun.

*

Thunder broke the silence with a crash that shook Rachel to the core. Stunned, heart frozen in her chest, she stared above the canopy as fireworks lit up the sky. Breathtaking tails of brilliant red and orange slashed heavenward. Sunbursts of bright yellow umbrellas floated across the inky backdrop, a staccato light show that would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so terrifying. Rachel pulled her dazzled gaze away from the sky and stared through the gap in the barrier toward the jungle, waiting for the phantom forms, nightmare images dragged from her subconscious, to take shape and race toward her. She steadied the rifle on top of the mound of rice bags, her finger trembling on the trigger. Where was Max? Her mind screamed for her to press the trigger, to fire into the shadows, to shoot at every flickering finger of darkness that reached toward her.

“Max, damn it,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

“Are they coming?” Amina said, crowding close to Rachel in the small space.

“I don’t know. Do you see anything?”

“No, but I think I’m too frightened to see.”

Rachel was more worried her own fear would make her see things that weren’t there. Reminding herself she’d taught herself never to trust what she couldn’t see clearly, she forced herself to breathe, just breathe, and concentrated on the dark, sorting shadows into recognizable shapes. There a tree, over there a log, there a trick of light turning a tatter of canvas into a skulking man. “Max is out there somewhere. We don’t shoot unless she does. Wait for Max.”

“Yes.” Amina’s voice was steadier. “Max will come.”

“She will.” Rachel was absurdly pleased that her voice did not tremble. “Remember. Don’t shoot until she gets here.”

“How long do we wait? If…”

Rachel swallowed. She didn’t know. Couldn’t think beyond Max returning. Couldn’t let herself picture anything else. “We’ll know when. Keep watch while I check behind us.”

“All right.”

Rachel half turned to scan around the camp the way Max had taught her. Only the shadows looked back. “I don’t see—”

Amina screamed. A shape catapulted over the rice bags and into the foxhole. Rachel’s heart rocketed into her throat and she raised the rifle.

“Friendly.” Max crouched beside them. Her face was partially obscured by the protruding night goggles. Her body was nearly shapeless in the half dark beneath layers of armor and camo. She could have been anyone, except for the distinctive line of her jaw and the slight squareness of her chin and the incongruous fullness of lips far too sensuous for her usual stern expression.

Rachel had never seen a more beautiful sight. “Are you trying to get me to shoot you?”

“Not just yet.” Max pivoted to watch the sky. “Looks like ground-to-air rockets. That’s tracer fire—machine guns shooting back.”

“What’s happening?” Amina asked.

“Rebel ground forces firing at inbound birds, I’d say. About three clicks away from here.”

Rachel looped her arm around Amina’s waist, as much for her own comfort as Amina’s. “Are the rebels coming, then?”

“Maybe,” Max said. “Maybe not. Maybe we were just the bait all along. I think they want the Black Hawks.”

“Why?” Rachel glanced back and forth between Max and the jungle, half expecting someone else to drop down beside them, this time an enemy with a rifle or a knife.

“Intelligence, the weapons, maybe just the bragging rights.” Max shook her head. “Who knows how they think? Any kind of victory, even if it’s fabricated, probably helps them recruit more followers.”

“It’s crazy,” Rachel murmured.

“Yeah, it is.” Max gripped Rachel’s arm. “I’m going back out. Don’t fire unless you hear shooting first. Then if anyone approaches and it’s not me, fire at anything that moves.”

“Stay here.” Rachel heard the tremor in her voice this time and didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid to be left alone—she was afraid for Max to be alone out there in the dark. “Please.”

Max’s fingers tightened on her arm. “We’ve got a better chance if I go. I’ll be back.”

“Do you keep your promises?”

“Yes.”

“Then promise.”

Max hesitated, moonlight glinting in her eyes. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

“Your best better be damn—”

Max jerked her rifle to her shoulder. “Get down.”

Rachel ducked and pushed Amina behind her. Keeping her head below the top of the barrier, she crowded next to Max and squinted into the dark. Another explosion lit up the camp and she saw them. Shadows within shadows, creeping out from the jungle. Animals? Humans? Her imagination?

“Max?” She held her breath, afraid the pounding of her heart would give their position away. Beside her, Max was as still as stone. For an instant, Rachel imagined taking shelter against her, leaning on her strength. She knew she could and Max would not think less of her, but she would think less of herself. Tugging her lower lip between her teeth, she forced herself to see the nightmares in the night.

Chapter Fourteen

Max steadied her rifle and focused through her night-vision goggles on the spot where she’d detected movement. If she hadn’t spent her share of time on night maneuvers, she never would have recognized the faint blur in her vision for what it was—the fleeting break in the tree line made by four men ghosting into camp. Four men inside their perimeter, circling around to converge on the center from four directions. Four against three, and Amina and Rachel were completely untrained. Their best hope was to even the odds.

“Rachel,” she whispered, “move around behind me and watch our rear. Keep your head down.”

“Right.” Rachel shifted as carefully as she could, certain that every crunch of stone beneath her boots, loud as a cannon shot, was audible for miles. She might as well shout, Over here! And what would she do if she saw someone?

Shoot? Yes. No. Could she? Until this moment, the idea of actually killing another human being had never been real. Earlier, when she’d been infuriated at the senseless slaughter of her friends and alternately terrified and outraged that the rebels might return to wreak more violence, she’d wanted to strike back as viciously as she’d been attacked, or thought she’d wanted to. She’d wanted to lash out to ease her pain, but now, peering into the dark with her finger on the trigger of a weapon that only a day before she would never have considered even picking up, she wondered if she could take a life. And if she could, what did it say about who she’d become?

Amina crouched beside her, and Rachel knew in that instant she would pull the trigger if it meant protecting herself and her friend. She would have to worry about the consequences later. Max was only a few feet away, but she dared not look over her shoulder, dared not look away from whatever lurked in the dark. Just knowing Max was behind her, protecting her, made her feel safe in a situation where safety was impossible, and she held on to that feeling while she searched for danger. Her eyes felt dry and tight, and she realized she wasn’t blinking for fear that one millisecond of inattention would cost her everything. How did anyone survive this madness day after day? And at what cost?

She couldn’t see anything out there except the soft flutter of tent flaps. That was all it was, right? That faint shimmer in the hazy moonlight slivering across the bare ground like shards of glass scattered by a giant hand. If someone was coming, she couldn’t see them.

“Max,” she whispered, “I can’t see anything. What—”

“I’ve lost them too,” Max said.

“Are you sure they’re out there?”

“My gut says yes, but whoever they are, they’re good.” Max swore under her breath, the vehemence surprising Rachel. “They might be searching the tents. Grif is alone. I’m going out.”

Panic surged. “No. If they’re here—”

Max edged next to her and unexpectedly clasped the back of her neck, her grip warm and strong and welcome.

“You’ll be all right,” Max murmured, her mouth close to Rachel’s ear. “You can do this.”

“I can’t,” Rachel whispered urgently. “Not without you. I won’t know when…I’m not sure if—”

Max’s fingers tightened on her nape, gentle and firm. Max’s breath seemed to slip beneath Rachel’s skin and soothe the sharp edges of her terror. “Yes, you can. I’ll be back. Remember?”

Amina pressed close to Rachel’s side. “Trust her…and yourself.”

“I…” Rachel gathered herself, tamped down the fear that clogged her throat. She never wanted Max to move her hand. She didn’t want to let the nightmares back in. “All right. Go. Go see to Grif.” She reached for Amina’s hand. Amina was steady and her certainty helped bolster Rachel’s resolve. “We’re good.”

“That’s my girl,” Max murmured.

For the first time in her life, Rachel didn’t mind being called a girl. She didn’t need to argue that she was a woman. Everything about the way Max spoke to her, touched her, said she already knew.

“Be careful.” Rachel wouldn’t beg Max to come back quickly. Max would do what she needed to do, and so would she.

“You too.”

And then Max levered herself up, rolled over the bags, and was gone. Rachel tried to follow her movement across the ground and thought she saw her flickering in and out of the shadows, but she couldn’t be sure. All the shadows looked the same. She wet her dry lips. “Amina, can you watch out the other side.”

“Yes. We’ll be all right,” Amina whispered.

Rachel watched and waited. In the distance, closer now than before, the pop of rifle fire, the sharp crack of explosives, and the constant barrage of things bursting in the sky continued. She had the absurd thought that she’d never be able to look at a light show again, never be able to hear thunder without experiencing an instant of terror. No matter what happened out here tonight, she was already changed forever.