Page 2 of Guarded

The leader. He had to be either on his way, or nearby. She scanned the trees again. Why couldn’t she see him? “The detail’s stopped moving.” The three men in front of the tree line all stood several paces apart, maintaining a secure perimeter. “Waiting for someone.”

She adjusted her aim, centering her crosshairs on the middle guy. This had to be it. All the NSA’s intel said Dempsey would be here tonight, to plan the upcoming attack with the other high-ranking members. Home grown terrorists, every single one of them.

“I’m alerting the team.” Rycroft contacted the commander of the FBI tactical team back at the command post fifteen miles away. An FBI SWAT team. “Your boys ready to go?”

“Affirmative. Everyone’s on board, helo’s ready to launch.”

“Might have found what we’re looking for. Stand by.” Then to her, “They’re at a field five miles from here. Can be here in a couple minutes if we pull the trigger on this thing.”

Oh, how she loved to pull the trigger on bad guys.

Briar listened with half an ear, more interested in who the guard detail was waiting for. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

More figures appeared through the dense forest of trees. Two big men. A third trailing a few steps behind them, moving without as much caution. “You seeing this?” she whispered to Rycroft.

“Trees are too thick for the drone.” He picked up his spotter scope instead, located the men. “Can you ID any of the newcomers?”

“Not the first two.” The third man finally came into view, and a flash of elation hit her. “It’s Dempsey.” There was no mistaking that bearded face.

She adjusted her grip on her weapon, snugged her right cheek against the buttstock, her index finger on the trigger guard. She centered her crosshairs over his chest and waited.

The difference was still jarring. In her former life she would already have put a bullet through him and be packing up to move out of the area as fast as she could. But the rules were different now. She could only fire under direct orders from Rycroft or if someone posed a direct threat to her or someone else on their team.

She couldn’t help it if she hoped this asshole gave her a reason to fire. One less twisted human cockroach for the world to worry about.

Rycroft contacted the team commander again. “Target confirmed. Move in.”

“Roger that,” the commander responded. “ETA four minutes.”

Briar kept careful watch as the security detail escorted Dempsey to the cabin. The guy on the porch was there to meet him. His four buddies inside came out to greet their leader with Nazi salutes.

Her lip curled in disgust. Too bad the NSA wanted these guys alive, for questioning and prosecution. She would rather end this a different way. But that was just her, because she was savage when it came to stuff like this. Luckily, Matt loved that about her.

Everything moved fast from that point. Onboard the incoming helo, the SWAT team leader conversed with Rycroft. She and Rycroft provided eyes for them on their final approach to the landing zone.

Moments later the sound of aircraft engines broke the quiet. The sky was dark overhead, the thick cloud cover blocking the moon. Perfect conditions for an assault.

Through her scope, she spotted the two helos the instant they punched through the cloud deck and dropped into the clearing. The men outside the cabin barely had time to react before the SWAT teams began swarming out of the aircraft.

Dempsey ran into the cabin with three of his guards, while the others scattered like roaches behind cover. A few of the dumbasses fired at the SWAT team.

Briar’s pulse remained calm, her breathing slow and steady as she watched the assault, ready to fire the instant she got the command. She kept her eyes on one of the bodyguards who managed to slip around the far right side of the cabin and take shelter behind an old stone shed.

“Target right, two o’clock. Six-hundred-eight yards,” Rycroft murmured, his voice as calm as if he was commenting on the weather.

“On him.”

The man raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the assault team, clearly thinking he was safe behind cover. But he wasn’t. From here she had a perfect view of the side of his head.

She honed in on his ear, adjusted the scope’s reticle. Curved her finger around the trigger. And waited.

An ounce or two more pressure…

Just out of her view, one of the SWAT members engaged a bodyguard. The man behind the shed shifted, ready to take a shot. She waited for Rycroft’s command.

“Fire,” he said.

She squeezed the trigger. The butt kicked into her shoulder, her body absorbing the force of the recoil as the report echoed through the woods. Less than a heartbeat later, her bullet struck the target. His head exploded like a melon and he slumped over, dead before he even hit the ground.

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