He blinked the image of his brothers away and Kensie refocused in front of him. She waited patiently, quietly, her hand still on his shoulder.
“It was an IED—improvised explosive device. A strong one. Blew up a couple of transports. A lot of our people were killed. The area was dangerous and reports said there were no expected survivors, so the Special Operations Team I was assigned to was sent out. Their job was to clear it for a Medevac unit to come in—with the hope that reports were wrong and there’d be people left to save. Rebel and I were supposed to get a scent on the guy who’d set the bomb.”
When they’d arrived, the scene had been terrible. The trucks had been caught in a remote pass, an area known to be dangerous because of the terrain. The trucks could go between the rocky hills or all the way around. Around meant losing a lot of time. Between meant making a tempting target for the snipers who were known to hide up in the hills if they got word of a transport coming through. But this had been the first time someone had tried an IED there.
“I admit, I was nervous about the call once we got details. I had a feeling we’d be tracking this bomber up into territory well controlled by insurgents. But Rebel and I were going to wait for the rest of our team to finish their work and come with us if we needed to. But we never got the chance.”
The wreckage had still been smoldering when they’d trekked in, alert for snipers looking to finish off anyone trapped in what remained of the transport vehicles. But there’d been no one left to hurt, no one left to save.
The smell of smoke and fuel had been overwhelming, the craters much bigger than anyone had expected. He’d known from a single look that it was too late for anyone who’d been in those trucks.
His vision blurred over at the memory. He’d known most of those people, and just like that, they were gone. It hadn’t been the first time. But in that moment he’d tried not to linger on the pain. He’d tried to hold on to the anger. That’s what would push him forward into the rocky hills with Rebel, looking for the bomber.
“Rebel got a scent,” he told Kensie, realizing that it was tears blurring his vision. He felt her soft fingertips swiping them away for him as he pressed on. “It’s probably why we made it. We were out in front of the rest of the team. They’d already cleared the immediate area, but the hills above? All we could do was watch those. So, Rebel and I were the first targets.”
“Targets?” Kensie’s voice wobbled and her hand clamped harder on his shoulder.
“It was an ambush. Once the bomber took the trucks, the others waited up in the hills until we’d searched the place, called it in as clear. Then they fired. An L-shaped ambush. Seems like all the fire is coming from one spot, so you move, and then you realize it’s there, too. Probably the plan had been to get soldiers and then the first responders. Which isn’t exactly what we were, but a Special Operations Team is a pretty tempting target.”
Colter couldn’t believe it had been a year now. The official after-action reports estimated that it had taken less than three minutes for everyone else on his team to be killed. And he’d missed all of it, hadn’t been able to take a stand alongside them, because he’d already been out of the fight. It was one of the biggest regrets of his life.
The cabin was so silent he could hear Rebel’s soft breathing, Kensie’s more uneven breaths.
“How did you survive?” Kensie finally asked. Her voice was shaky and something wet dropped onto his arm that he realized was her tears.
“Rebel. That first shot was fired and she leaped on me. Kind of like she did with you the day we met you.” He’d actually felt the next bullet slice right over his head, but by then he’d already been falling.
Rebel whined at the sound of her name, pressing her head against him, maybe recognizing he was moving into dangerous territory.
“It’s okay, girl,” he told her. Because it was. He’d already gotten through most of the story and he hadn’t broken down.
Colter stared up at Kensie. Her lips trembled despite how hard she’d pressed them together. She was blinking rapidly, trying to contain the moisture covering her beautiful toffee-colored eyes.
She cared about him. The thought filled him with joy and pride and fear. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Dropping his gaze from hers, he continued. “We fell into one of the bomb craters. Down through rubble. A piece of metal went all the way through my right leg.”
Kensie gasped as he finished. “Rebel landed mostly on top of me, so the metal that went through me also sliced her back leg open pretty badly. I passed out. I woke up later in a helicopter airlifting me and Rebel out of there. Apparently the insurgents had come down from the other side and finished off the rest of my team.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kensie whispered, her hand like a vise on his shoulder.
“I guess they thought we were already dead. I was out cold, but Rebel wasn’t. She must have kept totally still while they were searching. The team who came to help us said they wouldn’t have even known we were down there except Rebel alerted them. We were flying out of the site and I was trying to stay conscious long enough to ask about my team, but no one wanted to answer me.”
When they’d avoided the question, he’d known it was bad. But as hard as he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to hold onto consciousness long enough
