Flint’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #3)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Twenty minutes and there still wasn’t anything around but rain and fog — hints of that lightning Blake had mentioned flashing in the clouds out over the ocean. The kind of storm that would ground Blake, insane skills or not.

Raider had radioed that Jack was in surgery. He’d lost a lot of blood, but the doctors had said it looked promising. No guarantees, but it beat already being dead. What Flint feared might be Emery’s fate.

He gave himself a mental slap. He’d find her. Alive. The only acceptable outcome because he wanted a future beyond the Teams. And that future started with her.

His headset crackled, followed by Blake’s voice. “I’ve got a vehicle up ahead on the left. I’ll gain a bit of altitude so we don’t panic anyone inside before we get a look at the roof. See if it’s got those thermal markings Jack mentioned. So, everyone stay frosty.”

Frosty? Flint was sub-zero. A hundred percent focused. Just like his team.

The machine tilted up, climbing through the fog, not that Flint could really tell. He felt it, but they’d been surrounded by gray for so long, he knew he couldn’t trust his senses. A testament to how skilled Blake was. How much he’d owe her if they actually pulled this off.

The chopper leveled, dancing around in the up and down drafts, the gusty conditions thinning the fog a bit. Twin beams illuminated a patch of mist beneath them, the vehicle’s silhouette phasing in and out of sight. Flint squinted, aware he wouldn’t be able to see the thermal markings but needing to feel as if he was doing something. That he’d be able to sense if Emery was close.

Having Blake yell, “Hell yeah,” into the headset was all the confirmation he needed. Got his team on their feet and readying their equipment.

She clicked the mic, holding the chopper steady. “Mission’s a go, boys. Flint? How would you like to… holy shit!”

That was all the warning they got before Blake was banking hard, nearly toppling them all over as she swooped toward the road, all that fog swirling past the window. Flint grabbed Bowie, helping him pick his ass off the floor when the SUV came into view off to the left. Nothing but taillights careening across the highway, cutting off an on-coming car before heading for the barrier. The vehicle jumped the curb then crashed through the metal supports — dragging a chunk of the fence with it as it bounced along the gravel shoulder.

Either one of the rear posts had held or the SUV hit something because it was airborne a moment later, the ass end pitching up before it did a full revolution — hanging at the high end for what felt like a lifetime before continuing over and off the edge. Nothing but a trail of posts and debris scattered along the roadside left in its wake.

Blake banked hard, screaming toward the cliff at some insane speed. Barely slowing down before aggressively bleeding off all the airspeed and planting the skid gear on the gravel.

Flint was out the door and running for the edge before Blake had spooled down the engines. His heart pounding and his stomach lodged up near his throat. Fog curled along the ground, creeping up and over the edge before spilling onto the shoulder. Quickly hiding any trace of the accident.

He skidded to a halt, going to his knees before leaning over the lip — peering into the eerie darkness. Taillights lit up the gray with a crimson glow, the hum of the engine drifting through the air.

Bowie landed beside him, trying to stretch out farther to get a better look. “What are you thinking? Ropes from what’s left of that barrier?”

Flint shook his head, pushing to his feet. “That’ll take too long, and those rocks don’t look too stable. I’ll put my faith in Blake.”

“She won’t be able to get too close without worrying about striking the blades.”

“Then it’s a good thing she’s got a hoist.” Flint turned and returned to the chopper, spelling it out.

Blake merely nodded. “Get your asses inside and ready the hoist. Before I change my mind.”

The men jumped back in, preparing the cable on the hoist as Blake rolled on the throttle, then lifted off. She didn’t gain more than several feet before sliding sideways, making it look easy when Flint knew she was fighting just to keep it all level with minimal visual cues and the rain and gusts tumbling up the cliff trying to toss the machine around.

She focused out the window, bringing the machine into a high hover. “I don’t want to get any closer in case the downwash affects how the vehicle’s balanced. I’d aim for just right of it — go in through the back. Knowing the cliffs over here, the SUV’s likely wedged which means you’ll never get the doors open. And there were two heat signatures in the rear. Chances are, one was hers.”

Flint nodded, readying himself as Bowie manned the hoist. A lean then a push and he was clear of the deck, quickly descending toward the vehicle. The rotors started him spinning, but Bowie managed to get it under control before Flint reached the rocks — grabbed onto a small outcrop.

He slipped the loop over his shoulders then twirled his finger. The line shot up, disappearing into the fog. Quinn would come down, next. Then Carter and finally Bowie. Kian would stay onboard and ready the bucket Blake had for water rescues. Because Flint knew there wasn’t a chance in hell Emery could climb the cliff. Not with her shoulder screwed. And that was assuming she hadn’t sustained any new injuries.

Flint took a deep breath, then picked his way over, nearly slipping a couple times on the slick rock. Rain poured from the sky, a low rumble of thunder drifting in off the ocean. A sure sign they were running out of time.

He reached the vehicle just as it groaned then dropped a foot, the rocks scratching a line down the sides. A shrill screech lingered in the air, the chilling sound sending goosebumps along his skin.

Flint scrambled lower, briefly checking the stability before opening the rear window. The chassis jerked, again, at the added weight, settling a few inches lower. A pause to ensure the damn thing had stopped moving then he was shining his mag light inside.

Carnage.

That’s what he saw. Blood and glass and more blood. Splattered across the interior. Some pooled on the dash and windshield. He bounced the beam around, searching for Emery amidst the debris, praying all that blood wasn’t hers, when someone groaned.

He panned right, skipping over some blond-haired guy barely breathing, then shifted to the left — outlining her silhouette a moment later. Her eyes were shut, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. She had a cut across her forehead, bits of glass embedded in her skin.

Flint surveyed the interior. A section of the rear seats had collapsed backwards, pieces of equipment blocking the way. But it was more the driver’s seat that had Flint worried. Even with his limited view, he knew the damn thing had pushed into the back, most likely pinning Emery’s legs between it and her seat. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, her left arm loosely wrapped around one end.

The vehicle creaked, again, shaking for a few moments before stilling. What was likely another upcoming drop. He searched for something to lever against the seat when Bowie tapped him on the back.

His buddy pursed his lips, obviously coming to the same conclusion. “This thing is barely hanging on. We’ll do what we can to hold it steady — give you time to get her out, but work fast, brother.”

Bowie disappeared followed by more grating sounds as his team tried to brace the vehicle. But as tough and strong as they were, they’d never stop the SUV from careening into the rocks below once it truly gave way.

That was all the motivation Flint needed to throw caution to the wind and climb partway into the back. He did his best to clear a path, finally grasping Emery’s hand with his. He checked her pulse — thready but there. She groaned again, blinking a few times before opening her eyes — staring up at him.

He smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. “Hey, beautiful.”

She squinted, winced, then zeroed in on him. “Flint?”

“Expecting someone else to ride to the rescue?”

She smiled, crying out when she obviously moved the wrong way. “And break your streak? Never.” She panted a few times, eyes tearing over. “Jack…”

“Is in surgery but the doctors say it looks good. So, let’s focus on getting you out of here so you can tease him. Okay?”

She nodded. “Let’s just make it faster than last time, yeah?”

“Shit. I can only imagine…” He took a breath. “I know it hurts but can you move your legs at all?”

Not that he wanted her to move when he had no idea how badly she’d been injured. If simply wiggling her toes might cause spinal damage. But with the damn vehicle shifting every time one of them moved, they couldn’t wait for the rescue team to arrive.

Emery tried, her eyes rolling back for a few moments before she blinked. “I can move them, but I can’t squeeze out the way I’m positioned.”

“That’s okay. I’ll get you out.”

The vehicle dropped this time. Not more than a few inches, but it felt worse. As if they whole thing was falling out beneath them.

“Any time now, buddy.”

Bowie’s voice echoed from outside the SUV, dulled by the rain and thunder.

Emery looked up at Flint. “If you can’t get me out before this thing gives way… you need to go.”

“Fuck that.”

“No. I can’t be the reason…” Tears slipped down her cheeks as her breath hiccupped. “I love you. So please…”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re stuck with me. We either both live, or we both die. Period.” He met her gaze. “And I love you more. So, let’s get you out of here.”

He twisted enough to scavenge through the equipment, grabbing a crowbar and an oxygen tank. He didn’t know if he could wedge the seat up enough with Bates’ body weighing it down, but he’d try. Ride that SUV all the way to the rocks before he gave up.

Flint dragged the items through the narrow opening, placing the tank off to the right as he wedged the crowbar under the seat. “Once I get this thing high enough, I’ll slide the tank in to keep it elevated. Then, I’ll simply pull you out. Okay?”

She nodded, fading for a moment before jerking awake, again. Christ, her skin was deathly pale, just like when she’d been shot. And he swore each breath wheezed out of the chest.

Kian would fix her. Or at least, keep her alive while Blake flew them back to the hospital. All Flint needed to do was get her ass out of the damn SUV.

A breath and a quick pep talk to remind him how his entire future was riding on the next few minutes, then he had that crowbar under the seat — was pushing with all his weight. The chair squeaked, moving a bit. Not enough to get her clear but it was a start. Proof that all he needed was to try harder — push past any perceived limits. A grunt and he was pressing on the end of that bar, using his entire body to move it another inch. When it barely budged, he climbed in farther, ignoring Emery’s protests — that he’d get caught and sacrifice himself to free her — using his legs to give a boost from below.

The seat shimmied, grinding against something metallic before shifting up. Not as much as Flint had hoped but he was able to hold the bar steady by jamming his shoulder under it as he rolled the tank over. It took wiggling it back and forth to get it under the seat, but he managed. Was able to move the crowbar over to the other side.

It took several attempts to finally lift it a few inches. What he hoped would be enough to get her out. Emery twisted, clenching her jaw against the obvious pain before reaching for him. Flint wrapped his hand around her forearm, counting down from three.

She moved. Not all the way out but he got half of her before he had to stop — let her rest for a second he knew they didn’t have. The vehicle shuddered again, that telltale shrill echoing around them.

Bowie popped into view beside Emery’s head. “The ledge is giving way, Flint. It’s now or never.”

“Gotta give it one more push, sweetheart. On three.”

Emery sucked in a breath, straining against the seat as Flint yanked from above, using her bad arm to help push. The seat groaned in protest, lifting a bit more as she wiggled out, her legs finally slipping free.

Flint shuffled back, pulling her along as he backed out of the wreckage. Glass dug into his arms, but he kept going, finally slipping out the rear window. Turning to double check his footing.

“Flint!”

He snapped his gaze back just as Morgan grabbed Emery’s ankle, pulling her backwards — the sudden movement shifting the vehicle’s balance. It dipped on that side, tumbling Emery toward Morgan as Flint lost his footing, falling onto the rocks. He scrambled to his feet, diving onto the back end when the SUV slid another foot. Only his team stopping it from continuing the last fifty feet to the rocky shore.

Not that knowing they only had a few seconds before the entire outcrop collapsed stopped him from crawling inside. He’d meant what he’d said. He’d either get Emery out alive, or they’d both die on impact.

He reached for his knife, flipping it in his hand. No way he was firing his Sig inside the vehicle with Emery only a foot away. “Morgan.”

The guy jumped as Flint’s voice carried through the interior, echoing in every direction. He looked up, eyes wide as he scrambled for something on the floor. What Flint assumed was likely his weapon. But it was too little, too late. Flint simply flicked his wrist, hitting the asshole between the eyes. Jerking his head back before his body went limp, those dead eyes staring straight ahead.

Emery snagged Flint’s arm, holding tight as he retreated again, getting halfway clear when the SUV started moving. Sliding and twisting as the rocks gave way, everything falling out beneath them. He reached for something to grab, when Bowie fisted his belt, holding tight as the vehicle careened down the cliff, leaving Emery dangling in the air as it slid past her.

Bowie yelled something that sounded like, “Hold on,” as they rose above the ground, a loop wrapped around Bowie’s chest as Blake gained enough altitude to get them slightly above the ground before swinging sideways — slowly lowering them onto the gravel.

Bowie let go, swinging back with the line to get Carter and Quinn, as Flint moved over to Emery’s side. Green eyes stared up at him. Glassy and half-lidded but they were open. What looked like love staring back at him.

Flint tsked, giving her a quick once-over. She’d pulled out more stitches and she’d look half-Smurf with all the bruising, but she was alive. Didn’t seem to be on the edge of death. “You okay? Anything broken? Can you breathe?”

She smiled and his damn heart nearly exploded. “Alive. Not sure about anything else, but that’s enough. You…” She drew him down for a kiss, lingering far longer than was probably wise with everything she’d been through.

Flint rested his forehead on hers. “Just do me a favor and don’t have another near-death experience on the way to the hospital. I don’t think my heart can take anymore. Seeing that SUV careen over the edge…” He forced himself to swallow. “I swear I aged twenty years.”

“You still look great for an old man, then.” She smiled at his frown. “And I’ll do my best.” She closed her eyes, blinking rapidly when he caressed her cheek.

“Stay awake until Kian is positive you’re not really dying on me.” He glanced over his shoulder when the chopper landed, all his buddies already onboard. “That’s our ride. Hold on tight.”

He slipped his arms beneath her, pressing her into his chest as he stood, quickly heading for the helicopter. Bowie opened the door, waving them both in before closing it as Blake took off, staying low over the road as she wove her way toward town.

Emery relaxed into him, smiling against his skin. “So, are we going to talk about what we both said? Or pretend it never happened?”

He laughed. “Fuck, I love you. And yeah, we’ll talk about it. At length once you’re fully coherent. Because I meant it, and I’ll be damned if I let you back out because of a concussion.”

“Never. Now, kiss me before Kian starts sticking needles in me and pouring disinfectant all over my wounds, and I end up passing out.”

“Hell, yeah. And know this… I’ll be there when you wake up. Always.”