Special Forces: the Spy by Cindy Dees

Author:Cindy Dees
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-03-12T14:58:58+00:00

Chapter 12

Piper saw the men emerge from the woods at almost the exact same moment that Beau Lambert murmured through the telephone receiver, “Hostiles moving into the open. Inbound to your position. Contact imminent.”

“Roger, I have visual contact. How’s that gunship coming?” she muttered into the receiver.

“Airborne. ETA your position, eighteen minutes.”

“Tell them to firewall it.”

Beau murmured, “You should’ve heard Torsten bully them into launching. They know to get to you ASAP.”

“I’ll keep the line open, but I’m gonna have to put down the phone now and get ready to fire,” she reported to her operations officer.

“I’ll shout if I need to relay information. Good shooting, Piper.”

“Will do.”

She laid the phone receiver in the kitchen sink and took up a firing position, kneeling on a chair in front of it. Mahmoud’s men were moving cautiously, fanning out as they approached the farm. Dammit. Two of the men peeled off to head toward the barns.

The whole game now was to engage in a delaying action until reinforcements could arrive. To that end, she watched and waited as Mahmoud, Hassan and Yousef went out of sight behind a shed.

“Have you got eyes on Mahmoud plus two?” she called quietly.

“Affirmative,” Zane replied.

“I’m watching the young guys. When they’ve almost reached the barns, I’ll fire and draw them back here. If your three move before then, you fire first.”

“Ammo’s very thin,” he warned. “Only take kill shots if able.”

She smiled against the stock of her rifle. She was fully versed in ammo management. He was worried about her. “Roger. Will do,” she replied quietly.

She settled back into emotionless concentration on the scenario unfolding in front of her. She picked the spot where, when the young guys reached it, she would fire at them. She probably wouldn’t hit them at this distance, but she hoped to use the shot to check the accuracy of the weapon’s sights.

All those endless hours on the firing range rolled through her, with neural pathways and habit patterns built over hundreds of shooting sessions and thousands of rounds fired clicking into place. Relax completely. Breathe long and slow. Exhale and hold. One last gun sight correction; her finger touched the trigger...

The pair reached the spot, and she squeezed smoothly through the trigger. The sound of her rifle firing was deafening, shattering the morning’s silence shockingly.

The young men reacted violently, flinching and ducking and then racing back toward Mahmoud’s position behind the shed. She took note of the hole that appeared in the side of the barn. Slightly high and right of where she’d aimed. Duly noted. She would adjust her aim a tiny bit low and left.

She swung her rifle toward the shed, following the zigzagging path of the two terrorists until they disappeared from sight. She would love to be a fly on the wall to hear the discussion happening behind that shed right now. The terrorists had lost the element of surprise, and now they knew their prey was not entirely without teeth. That had to be a nasty shock to poor Mahmoud.

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