Fight By The Team (Team Fear Book 2) by Cindy Skaggs Page B

were active duty. “The side effects suck. The anger fucks with us every damn time and we need to figure that shit out. We need to turn our anger on the enemy, not each other. We’re still a fucking team.”
    Craft stopped tossing canned goods and stood. Fowler nodded sharply. Order fell over them. Anger drained from faces. Shoulders snapped back to the position of attention. Ryder had reminded them of who they were. Team Fear.
    “We can’t take my vehicle,” Rose said. Echo’s actions continued to diminish their options, which accounted for some of the earlier anger. “I’ll leave the truck in the barn.”
    “We can lay down the seats in my SUV.” Fowler cleaned up the medic bag and zipped it closed. He carried it in one hand and grabbed Debi’s bag in the other. “Let’s roll.”
    Rose lifted Debi, careful to keep the blanket wrapped tightly over her shoulders. She weighed less than his sister Ivy, who he’d had to carry when she sprained an ankle last year. Debi was out cold, not simply fragile, but completely at his mercy. She was breakable and still in danger. The rock in his gut churned into gravel. This was why a smart soldier stayed the fuck away from civilians. Collateral damage was unavoidable, and from where Rose stood, unacceptable. Debi didn’t deserve to get drawn into their world. He should have left her at the motel. He marched behind Fowler out the door, and grief and regret followed like a shadow.

Chapter Eight
    A pounding headache and dry mouth woke Debi from the sleep of the dead. Every muscle in her body protested when she tried to shift positions. She opened her eyes to a dark room and a monster-sized silhouette sitting upright in a chair next to the bed. The size of the shadow caused her heart to seize. She tried to sit up, but a zap of pain at her shoulder reminded her of the gunshot. Everything flashed through her brain and panic threatened.
    “Give it a minute.” Rose’s big hand pressed her gently back to the bed. “You really awake this time?”
    “Have there been false alarms?” The frog in her throat sounded more like an ugly old toad with a frog in his throat.
    “This is round three.”
    “Lucky three.” Debi struggled to move, but her body didn’t respond. “Where are we?”
    “Motel number three, about four hours from the last one you remember.”
    The math didn’t add up in her addled brain. “I missed one?”
    “We’re moving every day, paying cash, and staying off the main roads.”
    “Seems wise,” she rasped. With a cough that jarred her shoulder, she tried to clear her throat. It was hard to believe that they’d moved locations multiple times and she’d been that unaware. The last thing she remembered, she’d been at the ranch, and he and Fowler had given her an injection of something. “Blood loss?”
    “Significant, but not life threatening.”
    “Did the couch survive?”
    A slight smile broke the solemn line of his lips. “The Barry couch is toast.”
    “Finally some good news. Did you burn it?”
    “I figured you’d want the honors.”
    “Oh, I do.” Not really. She’d rather not face the reminder of the shooting, although she’d probably have a scar. A big one. “Did you really stitch me up?”
    Rose shook his head. “Found a doctor who was willing to patch you up without any records. You want water?”
    She licked her chapped lips. “Wouldn’t refuse.”
    He reached to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water with a straw through the top. “We stemmed the bleeding and got the doctor to do the deed.” He pulled the bottle back when she’d taken a sip. “Met back up with the rest of the team. There’s safety in numbers. Your little incident scared the crap out of Lauren. She wouldn’t leave you for the first twenty-four hours.”
    “It was my turn.” Lauren had taken enough damage when she’d been kidnapped. Debi took another sip, but when she tried to get a good gulp, Rose pulled the straw away.
    “Keep it down and