Page 119 of What I Should Have Done

A fleeting, last minute thought raced through my mind. One that had me drowning in conflict. If I took this shot and disarmed Karim, that would still leave my team with guns to their heads.

Four against seven.

If Mikey wasn’t unconscious, if Dom, Bernie and Ford weren’t restrained, there would be no uncertainty in my procrastination. But right now, considering the circumstances, if I pulled this trigger, the rest of my team could be killed. I would lose them all. I would lose all of them, not just Duncan, and then Karim’s men would find me and kill me.

And it would be all my fault.

The other option fared no better. If I tried to shoot one or several of the enemy combatants standing around my teammates, Karim could easily trigger the explosives and, again, he’d wipe us all out. So, we’d all be dead. Or those I didn’t manage to kill would shoot my team and then me.

And it would be all my fault.

“Wait a minute. Not counting your female sniper who shouldn’t be allowed to even be in the military. Where’s your other team member? Weren’t there five of you? I only count four?” Karim’s conviction in his voice wavered.

He didn’t know Duncan was dead, which meant he probably didn’t know Reyes was dead either. The first flicker of hope surged in my belly. Along with a mixture of rage. How dare that bastard tell me what I can or can’t do?

I was a woman.

I was a powerful woman.

I was strong.

I was a bad bitch.

Mikey loved me just the way I was right now.

My team trusted me. Relied on me. They treated me as an equal, though that sometimes included being involved in extremely crude and dark jokes I would’ve preferred not to be a part of. But the people in my life that mattered, didn’t see me as less than for being a woman. They saw the strength that came with it.

Fire burned at the tips of my fingers. Everything in me roared with a focus I’d never felt before.

A flash of the brightest blue swirled in my peripherals.

Glancing away from the crack in the wall briefly, my gaze landed on Mikey’s face. His cheek pressed against the dead body he lay prone on. But his eyes were wide open. He was awake.

He didn’t move, but his stare sliced directly into mine. A wicked darkness swirled behind his ocean irises.

Mikey wasn’t restrained. Nothing held him to the ground other than a rifle plastered directly against his skull.

And I grinned.

Then squeezed my trigger.

Chapter 41

SCOTTIE

Mikey spun around, batting the barrel of the gun away from his head as the crack from my shot seared through the desperately silent air. Dom and Ford launched to their feet a second later, seemingly rallying from the unexpected movement of Mikey and my shot. They both headbutted their nearest combatants, and shoved them off balance enough they dropped their rifles. Bernie rolled away from the two around him, laughing hysterically like a hyena.

But every chaotic sound was drowned out by the violent wail ripping from Karim.

I grinned to myself as I briefly studied my handiwork from the bullet tearing through his wrist. Flesh shredded. Ligaments sheared apart like twine. Muscles frayed, lacerated into pieces. The detonator clattered to the ground and his hand disappeared from my view. Adrenaline pulsed thick through every vein. We could win this, and I shifted my focus toward my team, pulling back the bolt lever on my rifle.

The tides had changed, a rip-roaring current of unexpected hope surged like a beacon between them. Mikey had already downed his lone captor—a head no longer connected with the assailant’s body. He now danced behind Dom, mirroring his movements as if Mikey was Dom’s very own shadow.

It was almost mesmerizing to watch as Dom ducked, evading a blow intended for his face, and Mikey stayed in perfect sync all while working a knife covered in blood through Dom’s restraints.

Despite wanting to watch longer, I knew I should help make quick work of the situation, and I squeezed my trigger. My bullet split through the insurgent’s skull just as Mikey freed Dom’s hands. Mikey spun around and threw the knife at Dom’s second assailant approaching from behind with blood dripping down his broken nose. It plunged into his eyeball as I reloaded and then sent another shot through his skull—making sure he was definitely dead.

Mikey and Dom immediately spun on their heels and raced over toward Bernie and Ford who had somehow, while still restrained, managed to disarm their four combatants and were simply dodging and weaving away from the fists and kicks that flew in their direction.

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