“I get it. You’re trying to be supportive. But I can’t...there’s nothing I can say.” Maddox still couldn’t tell whether Ben was serious or not. Ben’s teen-movie-idol good looks made it hard to read his expression at the best of times. Was Ben trying to say that he was gay too? Maddox’s head hurt like he’d stayed down too long on their last dive.
Ben huffed like Maddox was seriously short a few ammo rounds. “Just have Grayson sit next to my family, okay? They’ll take care of him. And maybe someday you’ll learn to trust me.”
And Maddox had—a decade plus spent building the sort of trust that went deeper than friendship, deeper than family even. And unlike Grayson, who’d gotten tired of waiting for DADT to end and married a nice guy out in Massachusetts, Ben backed up his promises. If Ben said he’d be back, then Maddox was going to believe him, even as the minutes ticked away and his leg and head throbbed.
Chapter Four
Adrenaline was funky stuff. Ben’s hands were clammy and his heart still hammered double time as he searched the ravine for their missing weapons. And the adrenaline should be masking some of his injuries, but fuck it, he hurt. But not as bad as Maddox.
Maddox was in rough shape, there was no denying it. Like all SEALs, Ben had had basic field medical training, and he was pretty sure Maddox had a serious concussion in addition to his other injuries. And the basic supplies Ben carried just weren’t up to bandaging those gashes. This muggy climate and dirt meant the infection risk was no joke. They needed to meet up with their team, and it was up to Ben to make sure that happened.
He started back toward the area where they’d landed after their fall. They’d come far enough off the narrow trail that it wasn’t going to be simple for the team to spot them, but it sure would be easier if the muddy hillside showed evidence of their fall. However, looking up, he didn’t notice anything that would alert the others. The small trees and clumps of bright green vegetation weren’t even ruffled. And man, that was a sheer drop with only the barest of inclines. They were so fucking lucky that Maddox didn’t have symptoms of a spinal cord injury.
He’d give up a year of weekends for his climbing equipment right then. And two working arms. Even with a running—okay, hobbling—start, he barely made it a few feet up, before cursing and slipping back down. He could do one-armed push-ups and pull-ups, but not even his force of will could get him climbing with this horked-up arm. Maddox was right. Neither of them were climbing out unassisted. Fuck it.
Getting on all fours, every muscle protesting the movement, he proceeded to start combing for any stray equipment. The dense vegetation made it slow going, as did the boggy soil. And it was lucky he wasn’t squeamish about creepy crawling things—insects were everywhere, creating the incessant hum that defined the jungle, along with small slithery snakes that rustled through leaves. He carefully skirted some vicious-looking black beetle things. The deep brown muck could easily have swallowed their weapons. A nearby puddle made a plop-plop sound, probably housing some other creature he didn’t want to encounter. Finally, he found one of their helmets—hell of a lot of good those had done—and a busted-up pair of night vision goggles.
Whoop-whoop. He looked up just in time to see a small orange monkey skitter up a tree clutching something metal and shiny. Fuck. It wasn’t enough to have to worry about hostiles—he had furry bandits making off with equipment. And all he needed was the monkey dropping his prize where one of the hostiles could get it.
Right when he was about to head back to check on Maddox, the barest glint caught his attention. Rifle butt. Not Maddox’s, unfortunately, but it was his, half-buried in the mud. It must have tumbled after him. Now it was so caked with black soil and bits of plants that it was hard to say whether it was functional. He sure as hell wasn’t going to discharge it to test it out, but at least it wasn’t in enemy hands. Continuing to sweep the area, he looked for any sign of Maddox’s weapon, but came up short. He looked up again, trying to see if perhaps it had gotten caught up in vegetation on the way down. His binoculars were as muddy as everything else on him and weren’t much help.
As if on cue, the rain started up again, a thin, miserable mist. It dripped off leaves, and the wind whipped through the ravine. A flash of lightning said more intense rain was coming. He tried to rinse off the gun and binoculars, but it was a losing battle as he just ended up smearing mud around. It went against his nature to give up on any task, but he needed to abandon the search, come up with another plan to get out of here and go check on Maddox.