Danger Close (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 1) by Marliss Melton

Author:Marliss Melton [Melton, Marliss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2014-07-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Sam held up a hand, signaling for the men ghosting him to hold their position. Leaning into the shadows of a stucco wall he thumbed his mike. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

"Gunfire," Bronco corroborated. "Couple of blocks west."

Relying on Brantley Adam's excellent judgment, Sam directed the majority of his platoon west, while sending two scouts in the opposite direction. They shouldn't put all their eggs in one basket.

Every dwelling on the northeast side of Mariscal Estigarribia looked the same—a squat cinderblock or adobe structure surrounded by a yard and an eight-foot wall. Their primary objective was to locate and map every structure with two or more stories and leave two men observing it. They'd encountered four two-story structures so far, which left six men including him and two more on the prowl.

Keeping his footfalls stealthy, Sam turned down a narrow road pitted with pot holes. Where are you, Maddy? He swore that he could smell her somewhere close by, or was the fragrance of climbing Bougainvillea playing tricks on his senses?

The majority of the homes stood in darkness, their occupants sleeping. His toe made contact with an aluminum can, and it rolled into the street, prompting a dog to bark. Sam stilled. That was when he heard it, another spate of semi-automatic gunfire.

"Talk to me, Chief," he exhorted Bronco.

"Dead ahead, sir. Coming from across the field, on the other side of those palm trees. See the light? Right there."

"Everyone, pick it up," Sam ordered, breaking into a run.

* * *

The rat-tat-tat of semi-automatic gunfire sounded like cannons going off.

Maddy pressed herself into the corner of the tiled shower, one hand clamped over an ear, the other gripping the dagger for dear life. The thud of a body hitting the floor brought a whimper to her lips as she pictured young Nasrallah sprawled in the hallway, imagined the scarred devil and his companion stepping over him to throw their shoulders into the bedroom door.

They fired at the lock, instead. An answering volley came from inside the room as Salim sought to defend himself.

Thud. Another body hit the ground on the other side of the wall as one of the assailants fell.

Then a voice—not Salim's—shouted threats from the hall into the bedroom. Salim called back what was clearly a refusal to surrender. Maddy's heart thundered into the silence that followed.

Then an angry roar preceded an equally violent exchange of gunfire. Eyes closed, teeth gritted, Maddy cringed, praying for the noise to end, for Salim to be the victor. Something hit the bathroom door and slid down it, and in her mind's eye she pictured her protector, his eyes open, blood sliding from one corner of his mouth as he gasped his final breaths. Oh, no.

Fury edged aside Maddy's terror. She drew herself upright. How dare the Hezbollah volunteers betray their leader, their host! She would not let them take her. She would not become a hostage of Hezbollah! Never!

Her lungs expanded on an indrawn breath. Adrenaline galvanized her rigid muscles. Over the thundering of her heart, she could hear the ceramic lamp crackling under the footsteps.

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