photos they’d been given. He didn’t really expect an answer either, but the guy surprised him.
“Y-y-yes, that’s me. Who are you people?”
“We’re the good guys.” He led his charge to the dubious cover of a burned out car sitting at the mouth of the first alley east of the building. From there he scanned the street that was his exit, noticing that a crowd was finally forming. Plan B hadn’t counted on Brick’s little explosive party drawing unwanted attention. He’d have to improvise.
A shout came from behind him. A quick glance showed at least a dozen men running in his direction. From what little he could see, those weren’t umbrellas they were carrying. He waited half a second more to make sure the front-runners weren’t part of his team. One of them gestured, shouting a string of Arabic. Kyle let the adrenaline settle into his bones as he aimed and fired. One by one, bodies jerked and fell, tumbling bonelessly like puppets with their strings cut. He smiled grimly when a couple of the terrorists diving for cover—ones he’d yet to aim at—suddenly hit the ground and stopped moving. Nice to know Ty was upstairs somewhere, keeping watch with those eagle-eyes of his.
Despite the double-team, some of the bad guys evidently made it to cover. Kyle ducked behind the dead car. “Stay flat!” he ordered Waterhouse. Bullets thudded around their hiding place, some of them pinging sharply against metal.
Another explosion. Kyle chanced a quick peek just in time to see dust and debris rain down on the terrorists from a large hole in the second story of their hideout. Perfect cover. He grabbed Waterhouse’s arm and pulled him up before the last piece of wreckage hit the ground. “Come on!” He glanced back once at the rubble clogging the street. Damn if Brick wasn’t milking the situation for all it was worth. Still, the building hadn’t collapsed yet, so at least the big man was showing a little restraint.
They’d run the length of several alleys and taken a handful of twisty streets when the com beeped. “Approaching from your nine, Ghost. Don’t shoot us.”
About damn time . Hearing Joshua’s voice loosened some of the tension in Kyle’s chest. He drew his winded charge to a halt in the shadow of a second story overhang. Exactly ten seconds later, his team poured out of the alley to his left. Joshua, Gage, Brick, and Dell looked like they had a few bumps and scrapes, but otherwise, were fine. Sam, codenamed Stitch, on the other hand, looked a mess. His right arm was cradled in a makeshift sling and he leaned against a wall forcing air in and out past clenched teeth. The hit he took must have been pretty bad judging from the wide trail of blood darkening his clothes. Gage hovered, ready to steady his partner if necessary.
“Remind me to kill someone when we get back to base,” Joshua snarled, flattening himself against the wall next to Kyle.
“Anyone in particular?” The echo of distant shouting had Kyle peering back around the corner.
“Yeah, whoever was in charge of gathering the data for this poor excuse of a mission. A five-year-old could have done better. Damn it, I’d swear they knew when and how we were coming in. There was no other reason for all of those terrorists to be in that one building. That’s not how they operate.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said. “We’ve been dodging way too many bullets for them not to know exactly what streets we were going to take.”
Everyone fell silent. The implication wasn’t pretty. No one liked the idea of a traitor in their midst. More shouts in the distance, closer now. Time was running out. They’d have to break cover soon.
Kyle meet Joshua’s gaze. “Time to go off the rails?”
“Definitely,” Joshua said. He tapped the com, including Ty, Rash, and the others not huddled with them in the shadows. “Attention Hawks, this is the Harrier. Scrap all tickets for this ride. Repeat, this ride is a bust. P2 is still the goal, but we’re
“Y-y-yes, that’s me. Who are you people?”
“We’re the good guys.” He led his charge to the dubious cover of a burned out car sitting at the mouth of the first alley east of the building. From there he scanned the street that was his exit, noticing that a crowd was finally forming. Plan B hadn’t counted on Brick’s little explosive party drawing unwanted attention. He’d have to improvise.
A shout came from behind him. A quick glance showed at least a dozen men running in his direction. From what little he could see, those weren’t umbrellas they were carrying. He waited half a second more to make sure the front-runners weren’t part of his team. One of them gestured, shouting a string of Arabic. Kyle let the adrenaline settle into his bones as he aimed and fired. One by one, bodies jerked and fell, tumbling bonelessly like puppets with their strings cut. He smiled grimly when a couple of the terrorists diving for cover—ones he’d yet to aim at—suddenly hit the ground and stopped moving. Nice to know Ty was upstairs somewhere, keeping watch with those eagle-eyes of his.
Despite the double-team, some of the bad guys evidently made it to cover. Kyle ducked behind the dead car. “Stay flat!” he ordered Waterhouse. Bullets thudded around their hiding place, some of them pinging sharply against metal.
Another explosion. Kyle chanced a quick peek just in time to see dust and debris rain down on the terrorists from a large hole in the second story of their hideout. Perfect cover. He grabbed Waterhouse’s arm and pulled him up before the last piece of wreckage hit the ground. “Come on!” He glanced back once at the rubble clogging the street. Damn if Brick wasn’t milking the situation for all it was worth. Still, the building hadn’t collapsed yet, so at least the big man was showing a little restraint.
They’d run the length of several alleys and taken a handful of twisty streets when the com beeped. “Approaching from your nine, Ghost. Don’t shoot us.”
About damn time . Hearing Joshua’s voice loosened some of the tension in Kyle’s chest. He drew his winded charge to a halt in the shadow of a second story overhang. Exactly ten seconds later, his team poured out of the alley to his left. Joshua, Gage, Brick, and Dell looked like they had a few bumps and scrapes, but otherwise, were fine. Sam, codenamed Stitch, on the other hand, looked a mess. His right arm was cradled in a makeshift sling and he leaned against a wall forcing air in and out past clenched teeth. The hit he took must have been pretty bad judging from the wide trail of blood darkening his clothes. Gage hovered, ready to steady his partner if necessary.
“Remind me to kill someone when we get back to base,” Joshua snarled, flattening himself against the wall next to Kyle.
“Anyone in particular?” The echo of distant shouting had Kyle peering back around the corner.
“Yeah, whoever was in charge of gathering the data for this poor excuse of a mission. A five-year-old could have done better. Damn it, I’d swear they knew when and how we were coming in. There was no other reason for all of those terrorists to be in that one building. That’s not how they operate.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said. “We’ve been dodging way too many bullets for them not to know exactly what streets we were going to take.”
Everyone fell silent. The implication wasn’t pretty. No one liked the idea of a traitor in their midst. More shouts in the distance, closer now. Time was running out. They’d have to break cover soon.
Kyle meet Joshua’s gaze. “Time to go off the rails?”
“Definitely,” Joshua said. He tapped the com, including Ty, Rash, and the others not huddled with them in the shadows. “Attention Hawks, this is the Harrier. Scrap all tickets for this ride. Repeat, this ride is a bust. P2 is still the goal, but we’re
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