Courage Under Fire (Silver Creek #2) - Lindsay McKenna Page 0,101

with his keen sense of hearing. It had been a moonless night, the darkness complete. Several times, he heard packs of coyotes calling to one another outside the cave opening. Another time, an owl hooting to its mate. Luckily, no sounds of truck engines or men speaking in Spanish. It had been quiet. But quiet didn’t mean safe, and he knew that better than most. Cari wouldn’t have a clue, and that was fine by him. She worried under general circumstances, never mind what they found themselves in right now.

He halted near the end of the path, listening. Cari stood behind him, unmoving. His Glock was in his nylon holster, strapped low on his right leg, the strap that held it in unfastened. Earlier, he’d placed the magazine in the chamber and clicked off the safety. In Afghanistan that was normal procedure. If he got jumped, there would be no time to snap off the safety, load the chamber, and then fire. He’d be dead before he could get a shot off.

Scanning the silent lower cave, his eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light, and he could see the outlines and the shadows. Lifting his chin, he sniffed the air. Often, in Afghanistan, he would hunt at night and sleep in a cave during the day. At night, people made campfires to heat their tea and he could follow the scent of the smoke to where they were located. It wasn’t any different now. He was sure that drug runners used these caves and would start a fire to warm their food or coffee. He smelled nothing but a slight dampness to the night air.

He lifted his left hand and gave Cari’s hand a squeeze, then released it, moving forward, staying close to the wall. They would not go out in the middle of the cave, where they would be a good target; they silently made their way around it.

He was proud of Cari; she was walking as silently as he was. Love flowed through him for this brave woman. She was completely out of her element, but she wasn’t rattled, no drama, just quiet, common sense and listening closely to what he asked of her. How much he loved her! Chase wanted to do anything but leave the cave after they’d consummated their love for one another. He wanted to talk and share with her, and he wanted to know what was in her heart and mind, as well. But that wasn’t going to happen. At least, not right now.

As he approached the entrance, he again halted, listened, and smelled the air. The astringent scent of the juniper trees filled his nostrils. The pre-dawn light was slowly growing and his gaze moved from right to left. The two junipers that stood guard at the entrance were good cover, and he slowly moved forward, his right hand on the butt of his Glock, in case he needed to use it.

Off in the distance, he heard that same owl hooting. From the direction of the sound, Chase thought the nocturnal hunter was in the grove behind them. Halting at the edge of the juniper, he again surveyed the area.

Everything was silent. He would ordinarily love this time of morning, watching the stars along the eastern horizon begin to fade and disappear beneath the coming light of the sun, but not this morning. Yesterday, he’d burned into his memory the trail that had led him to this cave. It was somewhat less rocky than the surrounding area, so he took it. The trail wasn’t too steep, and he continued to aggressively sweep the area.

Within five minutes, they were on the flat of the land that stretched out before them. He pulled out the compass, the dials a pale green of radium, showing where west was. And that’s the direction they needed to move. The horizon was a thin reddish line, and he hoped that wasn’t symbolic of someone’s blood. He turned, his voice low.

“We can walk normally, now. Give me your hand. Once we get a feel for the soil conditions, we can walk faster. If I get going too fast for you, squeeze my hand?”

She squeezed his hand in return.

He smiled into her eyes, able to see her features now. Leaning down, he kissed her brow and he turned and started their walk. Earlier, he’d asked Cari not to speak when they were traveling, especially during the first hour or so. If the drug runners were camped somewhere unseen, but heard them