Page 1 of Guarded

Chapter One

Stretched out on her belly on a wooded ridge overlooking the valley floor, Briar stared through her night vision riflescope at the log cabin below. The scent of the forest surrounded her, damp and earthy and fresh after a hard rain that had just eased to a light shower a few minutes ago.

“I count five heat signatures in the house,” she murmured, careful not to let her voice carry.

“I’m seeing the same.” Lying in supported prone position beside her, her boss Alex Rycroft studied the small screen in his hands. The image showed an infrared feed from a drone circling the area high above. “Command, can you confirm?” he asked quietly.

The answer came through their earpieces a moment later. “Affirmative. Five tangos in target location.”

Even though it was damp and cold, Briar was loving every second of this. It had been too damn long since she’d been out in the field. Even longer since she’d acted as a sniper.

A health scare during an op more than a year ago was to blame. She had been hit with some kind of Taser that had triggered cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed arrhythmia she hadn’t been aware of. Since then she’d mostly been working as an analyst.

It felt good to be back in her element, though she wasn’t used to having a spotter with her. Back when she’d been a secret government assassin in the Valkyrie Program, she’d always worked alone. Working with Rycroft was awesome, however. He was former SF and had more experience than anyone she’d worked with before. Tonight they were providing recon and acting as overwatch if a tactical team was called in for a direct assault on the target.

The feel of the sniper rifle in her hands soothed her and gave her a sense of calm. She was good at this. It was what she did best, actually. When she got home, she would have to hit the range with Matt and get her fix. Because after this op, her sniping days were pretty much over.

“There should be more of them,” Rycroft murmured to her.

Briar never took her eyes from the scope, the cold and damp after being camped out in the rain for the past two days barely registering. Learning how to ignore physical discomfort was one of the first things that had been drilled into her in the Valkyrie Program.

That, and to never trust or rely on anyone but herself.

Reversing that ingrained programming had proven hardest for her since joining the civilian world. She still struggled with trusting people, letting them in. Sometimes it even came up with her husband, Matt, who thankfully still wanted to keep her around.

Briar focused on the cabin, analyzing it. “Think anyone’s in a cellar under there maybe?” There wouldn’t be a basement; the structure was too old and crudely built to have one. But an old storage cellar was a possibility.

“Maybe.”

So far the five people in the cabin hadn’t come back out. She did another slow sweep of the area, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. This right-wing group had gained support and attention in recent months. They were reportedly planning a major attack on a soft, civilian target in NYC. Fucking hateful cowards.

A flash of movement caught her attention.

“Wait, I’ve got movement in the trees to the northeast.” She zeroed in on it. As she watched, adjusting the scope’s focus, three more figures emerged from the tree line to the right of the cabin. All men, and all dressed in tactical gear they’d probably bought at the nearest surplus store.

They didn’t move like amateurs, though. They moved slowly, appeared to be alert and cautious as they scanned the area, each of them holding what looked like M4s. “Bodyguards?” she murmured.

“Could be.” A pause as Rycroft switched frequencies. “Get me an overhead visual,” he said to the drone pilot.

“Roger that,” came the response.

“You recognize any of them?” Rycroft asked her.

“No.” None of them matched the pictures she’d memorized of the group’s leader and other key members. Three of who were already inside the cabin. The NSA, FBI and DHS wanted them all captured.

While Rycroft watched his screen, Briar kept her attention on the men emerging from the trees. The group’s leader was supposed to be here, yet he wasn’t one of the five men in the cabin. She’d watched each one arrive, and he hadn’t shown. These three newcomers moved like they were disciplined and had some kind of tactical training. Not a total surprise, since many members of the group were reported to be former military.

But none of them knew she and Rycroft were up here, watching. None of them knew they were in her crosshairs, or that she could kill any one of them with a squeeze of the trigger. She had used this weapon for more than a decade. It was calibrated specifically for her frame and preferences, so perfect it was like an extension of her body.

“Someone’s coming out the front door,” she said.

A man stepped out onto the front porch seconds later, holding a flat object in his hands. He shook it out, reached up and attached it to something sticking out of the front wall.

A freaking Nazi flag to mark their repulsive clubhouse.

“Lovely,” she muttered under her breath.

“Looks like they’re rolling out the old welcome mat for someone special,” Rycroft said.

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