Brutal Business by Horton Franklin

Author:Horton, Franklin [Horton, Franklin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller
Amazon: B084MM5NZN
Goodreads: 51205003
Published: 2020-02-11T08:00:00+00:00

32

Conor rode out of his compound before daylight. They’d firmed up their plans the previous night. Later that day, Doc Marty and Shannon were to depart for Johnny Jacks’ house, where they would spend the night. It would put them closer to the firehouse on the day the larger force was to leave in support of Conor and Wayne. Ragus was to remain behind to keep watch on the compound, as much as he’d prefer to be involved in the action.

Tomorrow morning Shannon and Barb would go by the pastor’s camp and then on to the firehouse, headed north with a force of volunteers from both Wayne and the pastor’s camp. Doc Marty, much to his distress, would remain behind at Johnny’s. It would keep him close enough to provide aid to the returning injured but would not expose him to unnecessary risk.

It was a cold morning, the nighttime temperature having dropped into the twenties. There was frost on every surface and Conor’s breath froze, rising like fog in the beam of his headlamp. His horse was laden with his best gear. It was some of the same stuff he’d taken when he’d gone in pursuit of Barb after her kidnapping. The big difference then was that he’d not yet acquired a horse. He had to carry every bit of his kit on his back so he’d packed a lot lighter. Now he didn’t have that restriction and he was free to go full Mad Mick. The bulk of the extra weight was ammo. He might not need much for the recon part of his trip but when the bulk of his force showed up for battle he had no idea how much they might need. He wouldn’t have a plan for that until he got a better idea of what The Bond actually was. They could be trained, combat-hardened vets or they could be a bunch of clowns in stolen uniforms. He’d know soon.

Holstered on his battle belt, Conor carried a Glock 17 with a threaded barrel. Slung over his neck, he carried his battle rifle. It was an M4 variant that was not much different from an over-the-counter AR-15 except for the three position selector switch. He’d built the weapon around a Spike’s Tactical lower receiver and the selector offered three engraved settings: Peace, War, and God Wills It. It was decked out with several other nice features, including a holographic sight that worked with his night vision, a targeting laser that offered both green and infrared modes, and a weapon-mounted light.

Also in his Eberlestock Gunslinger pack, strapped across his horse, was something he rarely brought out – his Accuracy International sniper rifle. The beast was nearly twenty pounds with an optic, ammo, and a bipod. It was chambered in .300 Win Mag and shot so damn well it made Conor surprise himself sometimes. He’d be the first to tell you that he was no sniper but there were times the job called for precision shooting. He kept the gun tuned, shooting it often enough that he was certain it would hit where he aimed it.

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