Wicked Wrath (Phoenix Rising Book 4) by Skey Jordan

Author:Skey Jordan [Jordan, Skey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cygnet Books, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-07T18:30:00+00:00

20

Bruce Abernathy wound the beaten truck over the firebreaks of Tahoe National Forest along the east border of Teague and Alyssa Creek’s property in Truckee, California.

His leg ached like a sonofabitch. Every dip in the road shot so much pain through his pelvis and up his back, he was sweating and panting.

Working alone, he wasn’t set up for all this confrontation or chase. He should have gone in for the hard kill right away. Hit with shock and awe and pulled Beloi out. He’d underestimated both Foster and Beloi, but he was done screwing around.

Nearing the heavily wooded spot he’d chosen after scouting via satellite and referring to weather maps, he focused in on the snowflakes as they hit the windshield and melted, then whisked away by the wipers.

Damn, this was beautiful country. Maybe he’d get a place here when this all finally paid off. Once he had Beloi, everything would snap into place. He’d have those crazy-ass smart soldiers on the ground within a year. Good-bye, Taliban. Good-bye, North Korea. Good-bye, Anonymous, for that matter. Americans would be safe from threats both outside and inside the nation. And he would finally reap a financial reward equal to his sacrifices for this country. He’d sure as hell left that in Schaeffer’s hands too long.

He parked at the rear of the thickly wooded ledge and unpacked his gear. Before he found his way to the edge of the cliff, open to the opposite end of the meadow facing Creek’s home, he climbed into the ghillie suit he’d thrown together specifically for this location. With white ski pants and jacket layered with brown netting, heavily taped with local pine and manzanita branches, once he took position, he’d blend right into the forest floor. For now, his ghillie provided camouflage for setup.

The canopy went up first—an expanse of burlap spray-painted white and forest green to blend with the snow-coated trees and hung in the branches above. Couldn’t make a good shoot with snow blocking a lens. Once cover was in place, he tossed down a dirt-brown plastic tarp and broke out the rifle.

Within twenty minutes, he lay belly down on the edge of a two-hundred-foot ledge looking over a snow-filled mountain meadow. Across that meadow, the Creek home was nestled among the trees, its A-line face with those amazing floor-to-ceiling windows gazing out over a view that had to be as stunningly picturesque as the one he stared at now. When he pulled in a breath of the icy air, it scraped his lungs.

A stillness filled him and migrated to his head, his hands.

Pristine. Peace. Perfection.

Damn that felt…unbelievably right. More right than anywhere on earth he’d ever been—and he’d been to every godforsaken corner of this planet.

Yeah. He definitely needed a place here. The sooner, the better.

To get a clear view of the target, without so much as a pine needle between his barrel and the house, he edged forward from the manzanita thicket beneath the towering pines. He found a position and slid the rifle out in front, across an exposed section of flat river rock.

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