Page 33 of Evening Shadows

“That’s why you’ve got me,” she said without boasting. “If you need to feel useful, you can do that spotting shit for me.”

Had he heard her right? That she needed him? It was a first, and work-related, but their entire relationship was entwined between work and personal. He craved to tell her he loved her, but regrettably, now wouldn’t be the right time. After. That’s what he’d do. After they returned home and debriefed, they’d figure this out. No more running on her part and no more holding back on his part.

Before he had time to respond, Franks cleared Cowboy, and Ken saw movement near the door and heard Cowboy’s “Shit’s about to get real” comment he always made before blowing something up.

“Shit,” Ken said under his breath. When munitions were used, knots formed in his stomach. It brought back too many memories of loss that had to remain pushed back to the recesses of his mind or he’d be lost in emotional grief and guilt.

The team’s focus had to be Cody. Without even knowing the boy, every one of them would give their lives to save him. By no means did they desire that outcome, but they’d do it. The child was an innocent who belonged home. In most cases home. In this case, with his loving godmother.

Before they could breach the entry, men rushed out of the barracks armed, seeking out the team.

“I’ve got your six,” Sam told the team.

Ken squinted at the narrow openings in the gate again and couldn’t believe her confidence. He didn’t doubt her marksmanship, but she’d never had this type of barrier. At least as far as he knew. Maybe she had with SWAT. No matter, with her calmness and focus, he didn’t doubt she could do this.

He focused downfield as Sam took a shot. A man fell but another came in from the opposite direction. “Cowboy’s three o’clock.” At times like this, he loved to watch her but couldn’t tear his gaze away from what was happening with his team. He could only imagine how beautiful she looked.

Damn. There were ten targets, and his team didn’t have anywhere to take cover so they’d hustled to the side of the main house. Sam took down another target before Cowboy announced, “Fire in the hole.”

As the agents moved from the side of the house toward the door, they encountered additional men from the barracks.

Without fail, Sam took down any she deemed necessary. He called out any trying to sneak in for an attack.

“Old Man’s six o’clock.”

She didn’t fire, and he didn’t know if that meant she hadn’t heard him or didn’t have a shot.

He tried again, wishing he could make the shot. “Old Man’s six o’clock,” he said sterner.

The shot rang out, and Old Man turned to see the man who’d been sneaking up from behind him. He glanced toward the gate and gave a two-finger salute to them.

Once they breached the entry, Ken’s pulse raced and he nearly held his breath while he heard the men calling, “Clear,” as they went from room to room.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up before he heard the rustle of something—or someone—approaching. He sensed Sam tense beside him. They didn’t speak. They both reacted instinctively.

His rifle bit the dirt and with a roll to his left side, he grabbed his SIG Sauer from the right holster and as soon as his right arm broke free, he snatched his other SIG from the left holster. Landing on his back, he aimed at two of the three tangos before them. In his peripheral vision, Sam had her handgun pointed at the other tango.

His heartbeat quickened with worry that he couldn’t protect Sam. At least they had three weapons on three tangos. Had he not spotted for her on this op, she’d have been in a losing battle of weapons. With the calmness he’d mastered in battle, he watched every movement, twitch, or change in expression of the men. If they gave any inkling of firing, he had no doubt that he and Sam were faster on the trigger.

For some reason, the men had their rifles lowered. It didn’t take a genius to know things weren’t as they seemed and they’d have to shoot their way out of this because they didn’t desire to become captives. Or dead.

As one man said in broken English, “You die,” the other men began lifting their rifles. A second after he and Sam simultaneously fired kill shots, an explosion inside the compound shook the ground beneath them.

With the men on the ground, he sprang to his feet, grabbing his M4 in one hand and the spotting tripod in the other as he did. “Move.” He didn’t need to say another word before she had her gear stowed and stood beside him. It stood to reason if any other men patrolled this area, they’d have heard the gunshots.

“Get to the extraction point,” he directed since they weren’t able to help before the op ended.

She nodded and turned to the west.

“I’ll cover your six.” While adrenaline surged through him, he wouldn’t allow his slower gait to hold her back if he led. He hoped she didn’t run into trouble before they got to the bird.

Over the comm system, he broke in and said, “Sugar’s Oscar Mike.”

The radio went silent for a moment as it seemed everyone held their breath. They knew something had happened for the sniper to move this early, yet they couldn’t help. They had to complete their op first.

“Sitrep,” Franks requested and Ken heard the small spark of fear in the agent.

“Three tangos bit the farm.”

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