Page 48 of Don't Let Go

“Talk to me.” Her voice wrapped around me with the softness of a lover and the confidence of a partner. A grin tugged at my mouth before I could suppress it.

Professionalism meant no distractions. Still, I savored the experience. I hadn’t realized quite how much I missed these intimate little moments, even if I shared it with Locke and most likely McQuade.

“We’re in position,” I informed her. “I have eyes on the home. Are you ready to receive?”

The car was parked two miles to our south, but there was a booster there to take the signal I sent. The satellite signal wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

“Give me eyes.” The crisp order resonated and I switched on the specialized scope attached to mine.

“Transmitting,” I murmured as I began a slow scan of the building moving from east to west across the face of it.

“Hold,” she said and I locked on to what I imagined was the living room area. “I count three in residence on the main floor. Two heavily armed. The third is seated, no visible sign of weapons.”

I gave her a minute, I couldn’t see what she was seeing. She had to be our eyes.

“Two are definitely there as guards. To protect or restrain the target? No idea. They are positioned at seven and one from the main door. Copy?”

“Copy,” I said, committing the details to memory.

“Continue scan.”

We repeated the pause each time she located another person. Thankfully, there were only four others present in the house. Two were likely servants of some kind. The other pair might be bodyguards on a break since they were horizontal and on the second floor.

“Can we get eyes inside?” Her question held just a hint of teasing.

“Is that meant as a challenge or an insult?” Locke retorted.

“Yes to the former, not so much to the latter. But we’ve all been taking a bit of a break…”

His snort in response carried an eloquence of its own. “I’m ready to move. I have three ingress points on the second level. They didn’t wire the bathroom window for security.” Disapproval underscored the amusement in Locke’s assessment.

Careless.

The pause between the information and her response elongated.

I didn’t hurry her, nor did Locke. There was something almost elemental in the comfort I took from her studying our options. She’d map out the various paths, identify the pitfalls, and estimate the varying chances of success based on each choice.

The woman was exceptionally gifted. It was also why I trusted her calls. She never moved on one without some certainty and if she had a less than optimal outcome, she didn’t let that stop her or us—she just informed us of the hazards.

“Locke, you are cleared for first ingress. Your task is to identify and paint the targets on the second levelonly. Once we clear those, you may proceed to the first floor. Understood?”

“Understood. Going radio silent. Thirty seconds.”

“Copy,” I exhaled along with her acknowledgement and moved my site to the second floor.

Mentally counting it down, I was ready for my first target. The scope lit up with the laser tag.

“First target acquired,” I said softly.

A moment later, a laser lit up a second target.

“Second target acquired. Clear the field.”

Five seconds later, Locke said, “Clear.”

“Clear to fire,” Patch said a beat later. It took no time to take out the first and second targets. Two bullets each. The distance suppressed the sound of the gun more effectively than the suppressor. The noise cancellation in my ear comms protected my hearing.

“Targets down,” I reported.

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