Cold Kill by Andrew Warren

Author:Andrew Warren [Warren, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B079NKK61F
Publisher: Andrew Warren Books
Published: 2018-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Caine heard footsteps crunching closer across the ice. The night breeze carried the man’s whispering voice through the trees. The words were indistinct, but it did not matter. Armed men were closing in on his position, as he had known they would.

He lay nestled in the darkness, wrapped in the thick furs from the bed. He clutched the deadly shovel in a white-knuckled grip. Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared for action.

Not yet, he thought. Let him get closer. Wait for it…

He heard the twin explosions of the grenades as they detonated inside the shack. He grinned in the darkness. The heat bloom from the explosions would drown out most nightvision optic systems. His enemies would be overconfident and moving blind, if only for a few seconds.

It was time.

He burst from the ice box and leapt into the snow. He’d removed the ice and supplies from the wooden pen earlier. Next, he had lined the cramped space with furs and pillows from the bed inside. It was not as warm as the interior of the shack, but it was enough to protect him from the elements for a short time.

More importantly, it was not where his attackers expected him to be. And in this game, misdirection was one of the few weapons at his disposal.

He darted into a grove of trees and froze, listening for movement. Behind him, the burning cabin lit up the night sky. The crackling flames cast the trees and snow banks around the blaze into deep, dark shadow.

He ducked low and scurried to another group of trees, farther away from the fire. He heard more footsteps. Someone was moving toward the burning cabin. A figure dressed in white tactical gear emerged from the shadows. The commando stalked closer to the burning structure. Caine watched as the man lowered the grenade launcher, and surveyed the area. He held up a radio, and spoke in Russian.

Caine leapt from his concealed position and charged across the snow. Swinging the shovel like a baseball bat, he cracked the metal tip into the back of the man’s head.

The man grunted, and stumbled forward. He lurched around, but staggered from the force of the blow.

A second was all Caine needed.

As the man’s hands dropped to the rifle slung under his shoulder, Caine snapped the handle of the shovel forward. The wood cracked across the bridge of the man's nose. Without pause, Caine sidestepped and swung the tool in a low arc. The razor sharp edge of the shovel cut into the man’s thigh. He screamed in pain as the metal sliced through his clothes and tore into his flesh.

He stumbled forward and collapsed into the snow. Caine clamped the handle of the shovel over his neck in a choke-hold, and dragged the body into the trees. He grabbed the man’s rifle, and slung it over his shoulder as he hefted the heavy grenade launcher in his hands. The man groaned slightly, but did not move. Caine stripped off the man’s parka and draped it over his own shoulders.

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