Six Minutes To Midnight. Elle James

the light, filtered with a red lens, into the room.

      Agar stood with his feet planted and his lips pulled back in a wicked snarl.

      As she panned the light around to see what Agar was growling at, a man’s face appeared in the glow...a face she knew.

      Kinsley gasped but didn’t have time to react when the man lifted his rifle and fired point-blank into her chest.

      The bullet hit with enough force to knock her backward through the door. She landed flat on her back and lay stunned.

      Before she could catch her breath, the world erupted in gunfire around her.

      Agar flew out of the building and landed on his side.

      “No!” Kinsley screamed silently, though nothing would come from her lungs. She rolled to her side and tried to rise.

      Agar yelped, the kind of sound only emitted when an animal was hurt.

      Pushing past her own breathlessness and the pain in her chest, Kinsley crawled toward the dog, her heart in her throat, her need to reach Agar foremost in her mind.

      Then an explosion went off in the building in front of her, shooting mud, rock and shrapnel in all directions.

      Kinsley felt the force of the blast against her eardrums. Her body was peppered with rock and shrapnel like so many pellets from a shotgun shell. Dust billowed outward, choking the air, blinding Kinsley before she could reach Agar.

      A sharp pain ripped through her side; still she staggered to her feet, crying out, “Agar!”

      A high-pitched whistling sound screamed through the air.

      “Incoming!” T-Mac yelled. Then he hit her from behind, sending her flying through the air to land hard on the packed dirt.

      T-Mac landed on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs yet again. At the same time, another explosion rocked the ground she lay against.

      Her ears rang, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe or move. Dust and debris rained down on them. A darkness so deep closed in on her, threatening to pull her under.

      “Agar.” She reached out her hand, patting the ground, unable to move or crawl forward. Then her fingers touched fur. A sob rose in her throat as her vision faded and the ringing in her ears became a roar. She couldn’t pass out. Agar needed her.

      The next thing she knew, she was being lifted into the air. She struggled to get free. “No.”

      “Be still, Kinsley.” T-Mac’s voice sounded in her ear. “I’ll get you out of here.”

      “No,” she croaked, choking on dust. “Can’t leave—”

      Gunfire sounded all around.

      “I have to get you out of here,” T-Mac insisted. “You’ve been hit.”

      “Can’t leave.” She fought him, pounding her fists against his chest.

      Big Jake appeared beside her. “Get her out of here.”

      T-Mac fought to retain his hold on her. “She refuses to go.”

      “Agar.” Kinsley pushed against T-Mac’s chest.

      “He was hit,” T-Mac said.

      She swung her legs out of T-Mac’s grasp and dropped to the ground. “Not leaving without him.” Her knees buckled and she would have crumpled into a heap if T-Mac hadn’t been holding on to her.

      Again he scooped her up into his arms. “You can’t stay here.”

      “I’ll get the dog.” Big Jake ran into the swirling dust and reappeared a moment later, carrying Agar.

      “Oh, God,” Kinsley sobbed. “Agar.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “Let me help him.”

      “Not until we’re out of here.” T-Mac ran through the village, back the way they’d come. He passed his team as they moved in the opposite direction.

      Over T-Mac’s shoulder, Kinsley watched for Big Jake. The big man appeared out of the cloud of dust, still holding Agar.

      Then, as they cleared the edge of the village, Big Jake staggered and fell to his knees, his arms hitting the ground first, cushioning Agar’s landing.

      “Stop!” Kinsley screamed. “Big Jake’s down.”

      “I can’t stop,” T-Mac said. “I can only carry one person at a time.”

      Behind Big Jake, another one of the SEALs appeared, looped Big Jake’s arm over his shoulder and half carried the big man down the path between the flags Kinsley had planted to identify the buried land mines.

      Agar remained on the ground...left behind.

      “Let me down,” Kinsley begged. “Please.” She didn’t dare struggle, afraid that if she did, she’d make T-Mac stumble and veer into one of the mines. Her strength waned, and a warm wet stickiness spread across her right arm and leg.

      “Please, you can’t leave Agar. He’s my partner. He trusted me.” Her voice faded to a whisper as tears trickled down her face and darkness threatened to block out the stars shining above.

      The crackle of gunfire and the boom of explosions seemed to be coming from farther and farther away.

      Kinsley must have passed out. When she came to, T-Mac was laying her on the floor of a helicopter. When she tried to sit up, her body refused to cooperate. All she could lift was her head, and only for a moment before it dropped to the hard metal floor. “Agar,” she said on a sigh.

      “Buck, do what you can,” T-Mac said. “She’s bleeding in several places.”

      “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Please, go find Agar.”

      No one seemed to be listening as they pulled off her helmet, unbuckled her protective vest and applied pressure to her wounds.

      “Shh, you’re going to be all right.” T-Mac leaned over her, brushing her hair from her face, while someone else ripped her uniform jacket away from her leg.

      The rumble of rotor blades sounded and the helicopter lifted from the ground.

      As they rose into the air, Kinsley reached out a hand. “Agar.”

      T-Mac took her hand. “We’ll take care of you.”

      “But who will take care of Agar?” she whispered.

      And then the sounds of the rotor blades faded, and the world went black.

       Chapter Three

      T-Mac stayed with Specialist Anderson from the moment he carried her out of the village until they wheeled her into the medical facility at Camp Lemonnier. At that point, the medical team on standby grabbed him and made him take a gurney as well.

      “You’re bleeding,” one of the medics said.

      “I don’t care. I promised to take care of Anderson.” He pushed to his feet and slipped in something wet on the floor.

      The medic grabbed his arm and steadied him. “She’s in good hands. And you can’t go back with her.”

      “But it was my responsibility to take care of her.” And he’d failed. Miserably.

      The physician on call appeared in front of T-Mac, a frown furrowing his brow. “You might not care about your own injuries, but you’re putting everyone else in this facility in danger with the amount of blood you’re getting on the floor. Take a seat, SEAL.”

      At the command in the doctor’s voice, T-Mac sat on the gurney.

      The medics stripped him of his body armor and uniform jacket and cut away the leg of his trousers.