Page 32 of Hunter's Mission

Booker shook his head. “My fucking feet are stuck.”

My heartbeat drummed in my ears, drowning out the sound of the wind ripping through the shattered windshield.

“Stay calm.” I clutched his shoulder. “We'll figure this out.”

“Look at my legs,” Booker said.

The cockpit had crumbled on impact, pinning his legs in the wreckage.

“Fuck, you sure know how to make a mess of yourself.” I tried to make a joke.

“Tell me about it.” He seemed more pissed off than in pain. Good.

“Is it your boots pinning you in place? Can you wriggle your feet out?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been trying. I’m gonna need to be cut out. And I don’t mean my fucking legs.” He glared at me like I was a maniac.

“I hear you, Booker.” Panic rose in my chest. “Hey Wyatt, give me a hand.”

“Hold your horses,” Wyatt mumbled.

“We’ve got bigger problems than my legs.” Booker pointed at the radio. The comms were a mangled wreck. “And the sat phone is gone.”

“Fuck!” I fumbled with the damaged communications equipment, desperate to make the signal light come on.

It was dead. I flicked the switches. We didn’t even have static.

“Son of a bitch!” I tossed the handset aside. The implications of dead radio equipment were huge. We were in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no way to call for help.We’re on our own!

As I gritted my teeth, I tried to shove down my panic.

My thoughts were consumed by Layla. Her terrified face as she fell from my grasp was etched into my brain.

My duty to Team Eagle was my priority, but rescuing Layla tore at my insides.

“Hold on, buddy. We’ll figure this out.” I squeezed Booker’s shoulder and eased back so Wyatt could view the situation for himself.

Wyatt leaned toward Booker. “Son of a bitch. That don’t look good.”

“It’s fucked.” The tone in Booker’s reply clamped a fist around my chest.

Wyatt and I wasted too many minutes trying to free Booker's legs, but it was no use.

Holding onto a handle on the roof, I searched the helicopter for something to cut Booker free. “Damn it. There’s nothing back here to cut you out, Booker.”

I squatted beside Cody and tapped his cheek. He was still out cold. Picturing Layla's lifeless body, sixty feet below, made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“Go save Layla,” Booker said. “I'll be fine.”

“What? I’m not leaving you.”

Gripping onto the roof, Wyatt wriggled into the back with me. He shook his head. Our situation was fucked.

The weight of choosing between them and Layla was a brick in my chest.

“I have to get Layla.” I clamped my jaw, hoping Wyatt saw the distress crashing through me.

Wyatt nodded. “Go get her.”