Overwatch by Logan Ryles

Author:Logan Ryles [Ryles, Logan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732381940
Publisher: Ryker Morgan Publishing
Published: 2019-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Holiday sat in a folding chair with his hands cuffed to the table top and his face spotlighted beneath the LED lights. In a millisecond, Reed noted every detail of the predicament and his stomach fluttered.

Why is Holiday handcuffed?

Gunshots popped from the crowd of disoriented agents. Reed rolled behind a desk and jerked another flashbang from his chest rig. He hurled it over the desk and covered his head. The room shook, and glass showered the dirty carpet. Reed jumped up, raised the KRISS, and placed a string of shots just over the heads of the stumbling FBI agents. They ducked and screamed, raising their hands over their heads as the guns began to drop.

Reed rushed the disoriented agents and slammed the butt of his gun into the stomach of the nearest one, causing her to double over. He followed the blow with a palm strike to her exposed head, and she collapsed to the floor just as a bullet slammed into his backplate. As if he were hit with a sledgehammer, waves of agony ripped through his torso. He twisted to the left just in time to miss the next bullet.

The shooter stood ten feet away, firing from between the cubical walls. Reed jerked the Glock from his thigh and shot twice. The agent crumpled to the floor with blood spraying from his right arm, and the final agents clawed their way out of the room, coughing and falling over each other.

He turned toward the metal door and kicked it open.

Holiday stood up, jerking at the cuffs. He stumbled over his own feet and shouted, “Don’t shoot!”

Reed jerked the submachine gun back to his shoulder and fired twice. The chain linking the handcuffs shattered, and Holiday collapsed against the wall with a panicked shout.

The folds of the senator’s collar were soaked with sweat, and Reed dug his fingers into Holiday’s neck, hoisting him to his feet before jamming the muzzle of the gun into his ribs. “Do exactly as I say. Don’t scream.”

The look in his wild eyes told Reed he wouldn’t resist. This man was beyond terrified and on the verge of a total psychotic breakdown. Reed shoved him toward the nearest window and looked out over the senator’s shoulder. Fifteen feet below them, just across a five-foot alley, was the flat-topped roof of a two-story shopping strip. A ladder hung off the far side of the building, leading down to where Reed parked the SUV.

Boots thundered up the stairwell behind them. Men shouted, and more sirens blared.

Reed was sick of sirens.

Turning back to the window, he fired three rounds into the reinforced glass and was gratified to see it shatter. A few swift kicks removed the remaining shards, leaving a wide hole into the open air outside.

“Hold your arms to your chest,” Reed snapped. “Run and jump.”

Holiday shook his head. “No way!”

Reed pulled the trigger of the gun twice, and the laminate flooring erupted in a haze of dust next to Holiday’s feet. The senator jumped and held up his hands again.

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