Page 72 of Beautiful Vengeance

As she landed on the damp grass on the other side, the tallest female operative hoisted Kiyomi across her shoulders and started off down the hill at a lope. Janelle followed at an easy jog while the others fanned out behind her to form a protective semicircle. Not that Laidlaw or Colebrook would be coming anytime soon.

In the clearing a hundred yards away in front of her, her helo was lowering into a hover. The rotor wash kicked up a flurry of dirt and grass, frightening a handful of sheep into scattering. There was no one else for miles around. No one to stop her.

Another thrill of triumph hit her, and this time she didn’t try to suppress it. She’d done it. Another couple of minutes and she’d be in the clear, on her way north with Kiyomi finally in her grasp.

Chapter Twenty-One

Shite.

Marcus flattened himself on the ground as bullets peppered the trees around him. The sudden increased volume of fire had him pinned in place.

At the first break, he raised his head and searched for a target, desperate to clear the shooters so he could find Kiyomi. His patience was rewarded a minute later when the underbrush at his two o’clock moved slightly.

He fired two shots. The brush jiggled, then stilled. The sniper rifle fired somewhere off to his left. Colebrook, still in the game.

Let’s finish it, then.

Sudden silence filled the forest, broken only by the sound of the helo’s rotors, turning somewhere out of view behind him. He needed to get Kiyomi, needed to head east to find another place to scale the wall.

Except moving was going to be a problem.

Carefully getting to his knees, he grimaced as he struggled to his feet. That fall had aggravated his hip. Jagged shards of glass stabbed through the joint and down his whole thigh with every movement. His already weakened muscles gave out, threatening to send him sprawling on his face.

Movement to the left.

He swung the barrel of his weapon toward it, finger on the trigger. Then a weak whistle sounded, barely discernable over the noise from the helo.

A second later, Brody called out. “Marcus. We’re clear.”

Keeping his rifle to his shoulder, he cautiously moved out from behind his meager cover and limped his way toward the sniper, now practically dragging his left leg behind him.

No one fired at him. Finally daring to look over his shoulder, he spotted Brody hunkered down nearby, covering him. “Where are Kiyomi and Trin?” Marcus said curtly.

“Hopefully over the wall, but the helo’s on that side too.”

They fell back together, each scanning half of their field of fire. Soon the wall was within sight. Brody let out another whistle.

A weak, wobbly one answered.

Brody’s head jerked around. He angled toward it, whistled again.

The weak whistle came again.

Brody turned toward the source and ran. Marcus followed as fast as he could, his gut balling tight.

Ahead of him, Brody leaped over a downed log and put on a burst of speed. “Trin.”

Oh, Jesus. Trinity lay on her back, a hand pressed to her chest. She was trying to roll to her side. Trying to get up.

Brody dumped his weapon and fell to his knees beside her, pushing her flat. “Lemme see.” She tried to bat his hands away from her chest. “Lemme see, sweetheart.”

“Not…bleeding,” she managed. “Busted…ribs. Can’t…breathe.”

Marcus stood back a good ten yards, weapon up as he glanced around them, growing frantic. There was no sign of Kiyomi.

Brody ripped the Velcro straps on Trinity’s vest apart to look at her. She growled low in her throat, her legs moving restlessly. But there was no blood on his hands as he swept them over and under her torso.

“Where’s Kiyomi?” Marcus demanded.

---