Page 43 of Shadow of the Moon

Devlin looked at the Jeep. It was fairly new and had so many bells and whistles… He could take this thing into the woods for weeks at a time and not need much more than what was on his back. Amberly opened up the passenger side. “Do you see this? It’s exactly what we need for tonight.”

She nodded, glancing around the interior. “She knew we were going to need something.”

Stepping out of the car, he moved to the back and looked in the bed.

“No fucking way…” he breathed, reaching out his hand. It was his kit from the SEALs. And his khaki rifle case. Lifting it from the back, he turned it in his hands. “I need to get inside and look at this.”

Activating the lock button on the key fob, he checked their surroundings. It was literally like this stuff had dropped out of the heavens for them. As soon as he was inside the motel room, with the door locked behind them, he sank down into the chair.

“How the fuck did she get this,” he asked Amberly as she sat on the corner of the bed.

“Maybe it was in evidence lockup?”

Unzipping the long case, Dev paused. If it wasn’t his rifle, he was going to be damned disappointed. Lifting the lid, he exhaled a quivering breath, excitement and relief running through him. Now they had a fighting chance. He ran his hand over the desert stock, feeling the divots in the plastic from the many beatings it had taken, banging against rocks and other equipment. But as damaged as the exterior was, the interior mechanics of the weapon ran like a German clock. He’d made sure of that. Or at least they had when he’d been the keeper. Pulling the pieces from the case, he studied them thoroughly. His life would depend upon this gun in a few hours.

“It looks perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t think anyone has shot this weapon since I had it in my hands.”

“It was used in the commission of a hit. It was kept in lockup somewhere,” Amberly said softly.

Yes, he could understand that.

“Requiem, right?”

Dev looked down at the gun. “Yes, Requiem. I thought it was appropriate to name it for a ceremony for the dead.”

Putting the pieces of the rifle together by muscle memory, he relished in the feel of it in his hands. Taking a life was never done lightly, and he’d never disrespected the dead. Some of the men in the teams had called the gun ‘Wreck’em’ for the destruction it wrought, but in his mind it was always Requiem, and he treated it with the respect it deserved.

Slowly, carefully, he put the rifle back into the case, and dragged his pack over. Everything from his boots to his vest to his green boonie hat was there. All his stuff. The NVG goggles were in their nylon case. It barely even looked like anyone had gone through it. “This is so weird,” he murmured. “It’s like I just went back in time three years.”

Amberly nodded. “I bet. Must be nice to have a Charley as a fairly godmother…”

He grinned. “It’s not bad…”

There was a black backpack clipped onto the side of his kit, and he unfastened it. Inside, he found a smaller Kevlar vest and a second pair of NVGs. “I think this is for you, babe.”

Amberly looked down at the equipment incredulously, then with excitement. “Seriously?”

She fit the vest over her head and fastened the Velcro. It fit her perfectly.

Perception was a funny thing. An hour ago, he’d been looking at a daunting job with very little chance of success. Now he felt like they actually had a chance.

“Let’s go kick some ass,” he grinned.

Amberly gave him a fist bump. “Hell, yeah.”

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