Page 28 of Scorpion

Parking two blocks away from the spot, I slip my earpiece in and scout the area, taking inventory of every building, every movement, every conceivable thing that could pose a threat. Cars still drive past on the main road. I saw a homeless man pushing a trolley in the opposite direction, three blocks away.

There’s the occasional chatter coming from the device about their ETA. Otherwise, I tune it out because I reach the place where the meetup is going to happen. Five tall buildings circle the spot. It’s a sniper’s worst fucking nightmare.

Who the fuck chose to meet here? Five multistory buildings. Five. One looks like it might be an empty office building. One’s an abandoned factory, another is a car garage, and there are two big-ass sheds.

Too many blind spots.

I’m going to argue with Mathijs if he suggests meeting anyone here again.

If Sergei chose it, then he’s lost my respect.

I can’t protect Mathijs from shit at a place like this.

Grumbling beneath my breath, I pick the abandoned factory. It’s the tallest and the least likely to have any workers inside. There’s also a fire escape for me to speed down if there’s an emergency. Out of all the buildings, I figure that the sheds are the lesser threat when it comes to hidden snipers. And I can’t shoot at someone in the office building if I’m inside.

The rusted ladder creaks under my weight despite how hard I try to stay quiet. It has to be at least four stories high, and if the lack of dust on these handles are any indication, I’m not the only one who thinks this is a good place to set up for the view.

Empty beer bottles and broken glass litter the roof. I sidestep a bong and avoid the two needles to situate myself at the corner. It’s a shit spot, but at least I’ll have a clear view of the chosen meeting point, and a partially obstructed view of both ends of the street.

A helicopter passes in the distance, and I flinch. Momentarily thrown back to a place where sand crunches beneath my boots, and the blistering heat tears at my skin.

Clearing my head, I remove the backpack to assemble the rifle. The motion of getting ready for potential battle fills the hollow part of my soul. This, I know how to do. Clean a gun, put it together, shoot. I’m good at these things, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to have a sniper in my hands again. As fucked up as it is, I’m hoping I get to pull the trigger.

I grab the binoculars and spend a couple minutes scanning the area, paying extra caution to the office building. None of the roofs or windows seem to have any snipers, but again, what do I fucking know? From this position, I won’t find out until they shoot.

Each movement catches my attention. Every sound makes me still. The four birds to the left perched along a windowsill, the candy wrapper floating along the street, the lone pigeon that sings every forty seconds.

If I had it my way, we would relocate or meet at a different time. But this is just how it’s going to be. And if Mathijs dies because he chose a shitty location, I’m going to kill him.

“All clear to enter,” I report to Sergei. Mathijs is ninety seconds out and two minutes late for the meet. “Green isn’t here,” I say Goldchild’s code name.

“Moving in.”

I don’t recognize whose voice that is, which isn’t surprising.

I settle onto the floor, attempting to get comfortable even though my knees are digging into the concrete. Supporting the rifle on the ledge and my shoulders, I peer down the lens and do another sweep of the area. Another downside to my spot is that there’s no way for me to conceal my position. On the other hand, all I need to do is drop down and I’m sheltered behind the cement walls. You win some, you lose some.

It feels wrong to do this without TJ. It feels wrong to do this alone in general, but especially without him. He had more experience than me, which made him the perfect spotter. The lack of shit talking makes this whole situation seem foreign. I say a silent prayer that his crazy ass is up there getting drunk and watching over me.

The thrum of engines grows louder with our team’s approach. They park opposite my chosen building and leave the three SUVs running.

Mathijs being Mathijs chooses that moment to break security protocol and step out of the vehicle to conduct his search of the surroundings. Most of the guards join him in surveying the area.

His head is perfectly centered down my scope. I could have made this shot when I was sixteen. What the fuck is everyone thinking? How the hell has he survived this long if he’s apparently got so many enemies.

“Return Edelhert to the vehicle.” Annoyance slips into my voice. No one has died under my protection, and I don’t intend to change that now.

The corners of every sniper’s dream target’s lips tip up like he’s heard me. He searches the buildings until his green eyes penetrate through the lens and has me momentarily disarmed. Age has done that man wonders. Mathijs winks just as one of the guards whispers in his ear—I assume it’s to politely tell him to get his ass into the car with the tinted, bulletproof windows.

Surprisingly, he complies. I don’t breathe any easier once he’s out of the kill zone, but being behind a rifle gives me a sick sense of calm. It’s like having my body evolve in a matter of seconds. Sights become clearer, sounds become louder, the breeze feels like a gust of wind. In this space, there’s nothing but me and the other end of the gun. Everything else ceases to exist.

This whole thing would be better if I had someone beside me. I’ve never been on watch without a spotter before. There’s no one to watch my six in case someone creeps up on me, or if there’s commotion where I can’t see. It doesn’t help that I have no idea how trained Mathijs’s guys are either.

Fuck.

I should have talked this through before we left. No one I’ve come across has struck me as shady, but it’s hard to tell. There are always scorpions hidden in the sand—literally. It’s the whole reason I got my name. I sat to readjust my boot while we were in the Middle East, and I almost died from one.

Tightening my hold around the rifle, I keep sweeping the area, going back to the SUV every few seconds to make sure he hasn’t moved position.

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