From the Ashes by Kyla Stone

Author:Kyla Stone [Stone, Kyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Paper Moon Press
Published: 2019-04-02T05:00:00+00:00

33

Logan

Logan knew he looked like a gangbanger himself, with his bronze skin, hard face, and sleeves of tattoos. His only chance at remaining alive was to obey immediately—and hope they weren’t so hyped on adrenaline that they shot first, asked questions later.

He flung the AR-15 to the ground, knelt on the pavement, and laced his hands behind his head. “I’m unarmed! I’m not one of them!”

The soldier and the ATF agent rushed forward, guns aimed at his chest.

“Down!” shouted the ATF agent, a tall, bald black man. “Down! Get down!”

Logan complied. He dropped and lay prone against the road, the right side of his face scraping gravel. His pulse thundered inside his head. His ears were ringing.

“I have a pistol in my holster,” he said. “It’s unloaded.”

The soldier—a short, fierce woman—bent down and pulled it from his holster. “Got a Glock 19.”

“It’s empty,” Logan said.

“No one said you could talk!” the soldier snapped.

Logan bit down on his cheeks in frustration. They were as stressed and hyped on adrenaline as he was. One false move and he’d be dead. No one had the time to analyze a situation—or a potential killer—in the line of fire.

They were shaky with nerves. They’d messed up, letting a hostile get behind them. The third soldier was likely watching their six before he’d gotten shot.

Logan remained limp and docile and let them do what they needed to do while he gritted his teeth and tried not to vomit on the soldier’s boots. She probably wouldn’t care for that.

They were frisking him roughly when footsteps approached.

“I’m friendly!” Dakota called. “I’m coming around the corner, now. No weapons.”

“On your knees! Hands above your head!” the ATF agent ordered.

“We were attacked by that gang you were fighting,” Dakota said evenly from somewhere behind Logan. “This dead gangbanger was sneaking up to kill you, along with a few others. That guy you’ve got there is my friend, Logan Garcia. He risked his life and managed to kill them first.”

“Kinsey?” the agent said, keeping his weapon trained on Logan.

Logan heard the soldier walking away, back toward the road. “Holy mother of…” she muttered. A radio clicked. “Mueller, I’ve got at least a dozen dead hostiles over here. Maybe two dozen. You’d better bring the team and come up.”

Her footsteps returned. She nudged Tiger Tattoo’s dead body with her boot and rolled him over. He’d been lying on top of his M4.

“Damn it all to hell.” She glanced at Logan, her tense expression softening. “We got surprised by an ambush. Turned into an ugly shootout. Cheung had our six—until he didn’t.”

Her gaze flitted to the guy leaning against the wall, groaning and clutching his shoulder—hurt but alive. Another soldier was bending over him, administering first aid.

“Tunnel vision,” she said. “It’s a real bitch.”

“We got caught with our pants down,” the agent said.

The soldier frowned up at him. “Speak for yourself.”

The ATF agent held out his hand. Logan took it and rose heavily to his feet.

Now that the battle was over, his adrenaline was fading fast, replaced by the familiar shaky, gut-wrenching nausea.

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