Chapter 23
“The ribs at the BBQ Pit are the best,” Michelle bit into one to fill her mouth because she was afraid of what might come spilling out.
Screams?
Gibberish?
Begging for…she had no idea what?
Twenty-four hours ago she’d been within seconds of dying in the Honduran jungle, just as Ricardo had almost done.
But Ricardo had saved her.
Since then, she’d had to patch Ricardo’s leg together again long enough to deliver him to the medics at Soto Cano. There’d been so many debriefing sessions that she couldn’t recall if it had taken three hours or thirteen. It had felt like thirty.
Ricardo, once they’d pumped two units of blood into him and a proper surgeon had seen to his leg, was doing better than the colonel who’d caught three rounds to the gut from Jack Harper. Understandably,
