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18
“Still nothing?” Charlie, driving as fast as the law allowed, looked over at Ian.
“No. Voice mail again.” Ian clutched his cell so tightly his knuckles were white. Where the hell was Eric? Or, more worryingly, what the hell had happened to him?
“It’ll be okay.” Charlie’s voice was firm and he was a solid presence next to Ian, one Ian was grateful for. “We’ll bring them both home. We’ve got this. I give you my word on that. And what’s my word worth?”
“The world,” Ian answered, the answer rising to his lips without conscious thought. As SEALs, that question and response had been the customary end to Charlie’s briefings, him explaining their next mission to them, and assuring them that as a team, they could do it. Charlie wasn’t the sort of CO to piss on their legs and tell them it was raining, and his men would never make a liar of him.
The circumstances were different now—they were civilians, for one thing—but Ian had to trust that affirmation was the same. It hadn’t been proved untrue yet, he told himself. But…this is Sofia we’re fighting for, his heart argued. Nothing else ever mattered this much. His leg bounced, his body trying to dispel the excess adrenaline.
“Can’t you go any faster?” he begged.
“Not in the school zone.” Charlie glanced out of his side window. “Nearly there.”
Getting to Southwest High to find Eric was a priority. For one thing, they knew where to look for him. Also, he might have useful intel to share. Ian was genuinely worried for his longtime friend, but his heart ached at the thought of Sofia, captive and scared. Ian sought for his inner SEAL, with his laser focus on the mission, his emotions set aside. It seemed a million miles away, or a lifetime ago, but he had to be that man now.
“Whoever snatched Sofia had to get past Eric,” Charlie said, the topic occupying both men’s thoughts. “If they can take down a former SEAL, we’re dealing with a serious organization.”
All Ian could think about was Sofia in the hands of men like that, and it chilled him to the core. “There,” he said, pointing out the visitor parking on the far side of the school. “Look, over there—Eric’s car!”
A second later, Charlie was turning in, pulled up as close as he could to Eric’s Discovery Sport. “It’s empty.” Ian thumped the window.
“And locked.” Charlie tried the door. “I’ll start working on getting in and you search the area?”
Nodding, Ian started scanning the surroundings when his attention was caught by…was it a groan?
“Charlie!” Ian whistled and, when Charlie looked up, signaled three cars over to the left.
Charlie nodded and as one they rushed to the spot. On the ground, between two cars, was—
“Eric!” Charlie reached him first where he lay, face down, his hands tied behind his back. “Help me get him up.”
Gently but swiftly, Charlie cut Eric’s wrists free of the cord imprisoning them and they turned to Eric, getting him to a sitting position.
“His head…” Ian drew Charlie’s attention to the bump at Eric’s temple. Whatever had hit him had broken the skin, and blood had run and coagulated.
“Easy there,” Charlie cautioned Eric, whose fluttering eyelids and tensing body indicated he was coming to. “You’re safe. You know your name—”
“Rank and number?” Eric cut in, finishing Charlie’s question. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He worked his dry mouth. “Damn it, how did I let this happen?”
“Looks like you were ambushed,” Charlie said. “Stop beating yourself up. You were outgunned and outmanned.”
Eric sagged a little against a car. “What do we know?” he asked, looking from Charlie to Ian. Their expressions must have cued him in, because he demanded, “Sofia?” and he went pale when they just shook their heads.
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Charlie replied. “What happened to you?”
“I was coming back from the coffee place”—Eric jerked a thumb over his shoulder— “And I guess four guys got the jump on me. Literally, as in they jumped me, sprang out at me from behind, two on either side.”
“Four guys, like Gavin said,” Ian exclaimed.
“What?” Eric demanded, and Charlie filled him in on what they knew so far.
“Shit. I’m so sorry, Ian,” he began, but Ian waved a hand.
“Not your fault. We should get you to hospital,” he replied.
“We’ve got bigger shit to deal with than my little head wound.” Eric shook his head, half-closing his eyes and wincing at the action. “You’ve gotten so cautious since we became civilians, boss,” he commented. “Time was, one of us took a bullet or knife wound, you’d’ve stitched it up and shoved us back out on patrol.”
