Page 32 of What I Should Have Done

Squinting through my scope, the hazy outline of something that wasn’t a rug solidified at the edge of the window.

“Crow,” a voice groaned through the radio. Mikey! “Take…the shot,” he croaked, straining against something.

The shot? What shot was he—

That blurry outline in the window stumbled backwards half an inch. It was a person. Twitching, exposing a smidge more of itself, the target’s arms were outstretched in front of him, clearly wrapped around something that I couldn’t see.

And I squeezed my trigger.

Chapter 12

MIKEY

Warm iron liquid splattered against my cheek as the body crumpled behind me, finally releasing its choke around my neck. Using the momentum, I twisted. Snapping free of one of three combatants, who was stretching my right arm out to the side.

Drawing a knife from its hiding place up my sleeve, I threw the blade at the assailant holding my legs hostage. In one fell swoop, I swung at the final aggressor still clamped down on my other arm. Fist connected with ribs, sending a sharp crack into the dark room. He collapsed with a grunt.

Scrambling to my feet, I withdrew my handgun from my thigh holster and sent two rounds each into the remaining three still alive.

Fuck was I grateful for Scottie’s shot.

Panting, adrenaline surging through my veins, I regained my bearings. Quickly holstering the handgun, I then packed the rifle back against my shoulder.

“Status, Viper?” Dom’s voice crackled into my ear. Backing up against the crumbling wall, I listened as footsteps pounded past me.

“Four down, over,” I replied through the radio with a whisper. And waited.

I knew more were coming for me. That was the point. I was the distraction to draw them away from the rest of the team. Dom and Duncan were headed straight for the top floor where the Black Box was supposedly located. Bernie and Ford were funneling the insurgents toward me.

Inhaling deeply, ready for the incoming wave of combatants, the first flicker of shadows crossed in front of the room—and kept going. A second shadow raced past, not stopping.

As quickly as possible, I slipped toward the frame and peered out past the frayed rug that hung limply over the doorway. Metal warm against my index finger, I squeezed, peppering a few rounds into the back of one of the assailants.

His body thumped to the floor as his buddy swung around at the base of the next set of rising stairs.

Bullets sprayed into the concrete right next to my cheek. I spun back behind the barrier. Sharp shards of cement pelted against my helmet and skin, pricking like tiny needles.

As soon as the gunfire stopped, I crashed out from the room and squeezed my trigger again. My shots cracked through the air. He dropped to the ground, tumbling back down the steps he had climbed. Blood dripped from his shoulder and neck, the life fading from his eyes as a pounding force against my back sent me sprawling to the dirty floor.

Rapidly spinning around, I barely raised my gun before it was kicked out of my hands. The assailant crashed on top of me, straddling me, and threw a couple jabs against my ribs. My lungs involuntarily collapsed. One hand of mine found the back of his neck as my legs wrapped around his waist. I rammed my entire body into his while rolling sideways.

As I pinned my forearm against his throat, locking him to the floor, someone else’s elbow slammed into the back of my head. Cold fingers clamped down around the front of my neck. Gulping down oxygen through a straw-like opening, stars blurred my vision as the enemy behind me tightened his hold.

Releasing the perpetrator below me from my choke, I threw my head back, slamming my skull against the nose of the assailant behind me with a loud crunch. Fingers flew free from my throat. The combatant I was straddling rammed a sluggish fist into my jaw.

My fingers fumbled for anything left behind on the floor of the abandoned building. Arms wrapped around my waist. Jagged stone met my touch, and I snatched it up. Bashing the broken concrete into the side of the head of the assailant below me, his struggling fell still just as the enemy upon my back jerked me upright from the floor.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, ramming an elbow into his diaphragm. His grip on me faltered, his hold loosening around my torso, leaving me just enough room to spin around. But he quickly regained his breath and hugged me against his body. Chest to chest, I swept at his ankles. We crashed backwards, right into the room where I’d left four dead bodies.

His chin buried sharply into my shoulder as my back smacked against the ground. As his pressure deepened against me, my flailing fists did nothing. No matter how hard I attempted to knee him, no effective contact was made.

So, I snapped my teeth down around his ear.

Hot iron met my tongue.

A searing scream from his mouth silenced everything around us and sent a ringing through my head. He tore his chin up from my shoulder.

And a crack shot through the air, cutting his haunting wail short.

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