Page 2 of Rescuing Macie

She let out an umph when she landed on her stomach on the limb. She held on for dear life, but felt extremely shaky and wasn’t sure she could hang on. She vaguely felt her inner thighs burning from scraping along the rough bark, but the pain barely registered. She had probably thirty seconds or so, tops, before one of the men looked out the window. They’d probably see the empty bed and go straight to the closet first. At least she hoped that’s what they would do. It would buy her a bit of time.

Scrambling to her feet quickly and carefully, Macie shuffled along the large branch, holding on to the smaller limbs above her as she made her way toward the trunk. She began to climb downward as fast as she could, mentally counting the seconds. When she’d practiced this, she’d always been wearing jeans and sneakers. Bare feet and pajama shorts weren’t exactly conducive to a middle-of-the-night escape.

Macie was trying to be quiet while still moving as fast as possible. Climbing down was harder because of her lack of proper clothing and the way her entire body was shaking. Stretching her leg down to the final branch, she sighed in relief, thinking she’d made it.

“Hey!” a low voice shouted from above her.

She startled so bad, she missed the branch and tumbled the three feet or so to the ground, landing on her ass. Without looking up at her window, Macie leaped to her feet and took off running. As she ran, she pulled out her cell phone—which had miraculously not fallen out of her shorts as she’d climbed out of the tree—and frantically pushed one of the saved numbers as she tried to figure out where she could hide.

* * * *

Colonel Colton Robinson ran a hand over his face wearily. It was oh-two-thirty in the morning and both Delta Force teams were finishing up their debrief of the mission they’d just returned from. The fourteen men, from two different teams, had worked together to bring down a high-value target who had been hiding out in Africa. Logistically, the last week and a half had been a bitch, but Colt had never doubted the men under his command for a second.

Ghost’s team was older and more experienced, and tended to err on the side of caution. All seven men were married, some had children, so their main concern was getting home to their families safe and sound. Trigger’s team, on the other hand, was younger, mostly late twenties and early thirties, and all of them single. They had no problem taking risks and doing everything necessary to get the job done.

Together, the fourteen men were the best he’d ever had the pleasure to command. Colt trusted each and every one of them, and the latest mission had been no exception. The HVT was neutralized and they’d done it without blowing their cover. As far as the African government and the terrorist organization was concerned, the man had died in a local skirmish, not at the hands of the US military.

Colt knew everyone was anxious to get home, but debriefing was required. He listened as Lefty explained how they’d exited the compound where the HVT had been holed up. Colt knew all the details, but protocol demanded they review it one more time.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating and turned to frown at the man sitting to his left. Truck knew they weren’t supposed to have their phones on, but at least he’d had the decency to put it on vibrate. Colt wouldn’t reprimand him—if he had a wife or kids at home, he’d want them to be able to get ahold of him at any time—but he glared at Truck to let him know that he was walking a fine line.

Truck looked down at his phone and frowned. He brought the phone to his ear. “Mace? What are—”

The second Truck said his sister’s name, Colt straightened in his chair and all his attention was on the soldier sitting next to him.

So many times in the last two months, he’d wanted to ask Truck for his sister’s number, but he didn’t want to pressure Macie with his attention if she didn’t want it. And he had to assume she didn’t, because he’d flat-out asked her if he could see her again the last time they’d been together—and she’d snuck out of his house without a word or leaving him a way to contact her.

The memories of the last time he’d seen Macie were interrupted when Truck stood and moved toward the door, the phone still to his ear.

Without thought, Colt stood and followed Truck. At the last second, he turned to the group of men still sitting around the table. “Dismissed,” he said absently. They’d finish the debrief later.

“Sir?” Ghost called as Colt was about to disappear.

He waved at the man and said, “I’ll call if we need you.” And then he was rushing after Truck down the hallway.

“Mace, slow down. What’s wrong?” Truck asked.

Colt’s blood ran cold. He hurried to catch up, trying to control himself and not rip the phone out of Truck’s hand.

“I’m coming!” he said urgently. “Find a place to hide. I’m on my way.”

That was it. Colt was done. “Give me the phone,” he ordered.

Truck’s gaze went to his, and his brows drew down in surprise and annoyance.

Colt wiggled his fingers. “Give her to me. You drive. I’ll talk.”

Surprisingly, Truck nodded and handed him his phone. Both men ran down the hall to the door that led out to the parking lot. Colt reached in his pocket and threw his keychain at Truck even as he brought the phone up to his ear. “Macie?”

“Yeah?” was the weak answer.

“It’s Colt. From Truck’s wedding. What’s going on? Where are you?” He could hear her wheezing as she hyperventilated, and it only increased his concern.

“My apartment. Men broke in. I got out but I don’t know where to go!”

Colt’s heart dropped at her words. He and Truck arrived at his Jeep Wrangler and both jumped in. He pulled out his own cell and dialed 9-1-1, then handed it to Truck. The other man started the Jeep and began talking to the dispatcher at the same time. Within seconds, they were racing out of the parking lot and headed for the front gate of the Army post.

“What do you see around you?” Colt asked Macie. “Look around, Macie. Tell me what you’re looking at,” he ordered.