Page 49 of Declan's Hope

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"Takethe head and the body flounders," the colonel’s murmured words sounded in his ear comm linking Declan with the rest of the team. Declan hoped that would be the case where he lay prone and stared through his scope. He’d found the perfect location to get the clearest view of the front entrance of the Sheppard’s house, the bus full of children parked parallel to the house in the large front drive, and Salazar’s men carelessly carrying their automatic weapons as they meandered around the yard—seven in all.

The perfect location for him to get the clearest shot at taking out the head of the Salazar drug cartel.

Declan wiped over his eye through the opening in his black stocking mask, then rested his cheek once more on the back plate of his Barrett M82A1. He couldn’t quite get settled for the proper eye relief and had to adjust more than he had before losing his eye. He continued angling his head until…

Finally.

"What if I miss?"

Several heartbeats of silence followed before the colonel quietly asked, "How many of these shots have you made?"

Twelve.

This question wasn’t one Declan considered often. Killing another human being—regardless of what kind of human being that person might be—never came easy. The colonel knew the answer just as well as he did, but he replied anyhow with, "When I had two good eyes? Enough."

"You only need one. And you can do this," the colonel said.

"From the movement of cigarette smoke in the air," Chance murmured and patted over Declan’s foot where he’d set up directly behind him. "Wind is lighter close to the house than it is here and blowing to the east. I’d say about ten knots." It had been a while since Declan had had a spotter. Today he needed one more than ever before.

"Can you get me to the kill shot?" Declan asked, checking the area through his scope, finally landing his site on the front porch.

"I can."

Declan spared a glance over his shoulder at Chance who had his right eye up against a spotter scope set up on a tripod. He too, like the rest of the team wore the same fitted black mask. The colonel had insisted they wear them to keep their identities under wraps.

Then the other man lifted his eye away and met his gaze. "I’ve got you."

Declan gave Chance a quick nod before repositioning himself and looking once more through his site. The red front door Hope had been taken through more than ten minutes before remained closed.

Seeing her step off the bus unharmed had helped only slightly as he’d soaked in the sight of her. She’d needed him. But he’d remained steadfast and kept his scope trained on her progress as she’d been practically dragged to the house and then up the stairs to the porch.

His chest tightened. Forcing himself to keep still and not barrel down the hill to get to her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. If it hadn’t been for the children, he might have done it anyhow.

The children.

He lifted his gaze over the scope and stared at the bus. And not just those children, but Kara too. He couldn’t put any of them at risk by following his instincts. The children were their priority. He and the rest of the team—Destiny included—had agreed.

Hope and Mercy would want the same thing too.

He brushed his finger over the trigger and peered back through scope at the door. So while he needed to see Hope and Mercy safe, regardless of what else happened—no matter who else might be lost—the children had to come first.

He just prayed whatever Salazar planned, he would follow through with it out in the open as Jennings had suggested.

"Salazar needs his men to witness his revenge," Jennings had said. "And it’s something he’ll take part in no matter how bad his health." Then the younger man had stared down the hill, his features hardening before quietly saying, "He’ll take out Mercy, Kara, and Hope himself."

So it was a good assumption Salazar would be in the open. The question was, in what order would he do the killing?

And when?

Declan tensed as the front door opened, then relaxed only slightly when a couple of Salazar’s men left the house and shut the door behind them. Then he frowned. Thinking back, he’d found it odd how Jennings had mentioned Mercy first—saying her name almost like he knew her. Maybe he did, although he hadn’t mentioned it. Mercy had been the lead prosecutor on several drug-related trials, so it was a possibility.

His sister had a mission. And that mission was to put as many drug dealers away as she could.

Her actions hadn’t made her any friends.

"This doing nothing’s killing me," Destiny said low. She’d been given a comm link too, but had stayed in place with Solace about 20 feet from his location. Solace had volunteered to monitor heat signatures from inside the house—using the same equipment they’d had in Mexico—and to listen in for anything interesting on the parabolic mic.

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