Page 116 of Enemy Within
“I’d rather be at your side, in everything, everywhere, than sit on the sidelines and pretend I’m safe.”
The first bullet flew over their heads.
“They’re here!” Scott fired over the wing, trying to hold the new arrivals back.
“Sasha, how’s Sergey?” Jack shouted toward the silent cockpit. Sasha hadn’t said anything to them on their way out. He’d been pale, ghostly white, and focused solely on Sergey. “We’ve got company, Sasha! What’s going on?”
Bullets erupted from the cockpit, spraying through the shattered windows toward the snowmobiles. They were wild, with no real aim. Sasha, firing blind. “Keep them away!” Sasha barked. “I am trying to pull him out!”
“Easier said than done,” Scott grumbled. “They’ve got a lot of firepower.”
Swallowing, Jack refocused on the men attacking. They’d stopped their approach, Scott and Ethan pinning Madigan’s men back about sixty yards out. Some covered behind their snowmobiles. One hefted a giant machine gun on top of his snowmobile saddle, balanced on a tripod.
“Fuck. Ethan, two o’clock!” Scott shouted.
“I see it.” Ethan swung right and took aim at the machine gunner.
Jack spotted another gunman sighting in on Ethan. He lined up, put the gunman square in his reticle, and fired.
The gunman fell backward.
“Two down,” Ethan called. He threw Jack a tiny, sad smile. “Thanks.”
And then, Ethan’s eyes went wide as stared over Jack’s shoulder. “RPG!” he hollered. “Nine o’clock!”
SASHA WHIPPED AROUND AT Ethan’s shout. “RPG!” Ethan bellowed again.
Fuck. An RPG would destroy the plane, and them along with it. Sergey still hadn’t woken up. His head lolled on Sasha’s shoulder, and the most Sasha had gotten out of him had been a feeble moan when he’d slapped him.
Two of Madigan’s men were still loading the RPG while the other three laid down suppressive fire. Ethan and Scott tried to fire back, but they couldn’t get a fix. Sasha saw Ethan rise again, trying to fire. Bullets slammed into the wing in front of his face, sparking against his cheek. He dropped back.
They had moments, only moments before their plane lit up like a firework.
He searched the cockpit, trying to find something, anything to fight back with. He had no shot from the crumpled, sideways cockpit, no way to target the fighters. Damn it, if he didn’t get Sergey out of there, they’d both die. But Sergey wasn’t moving. And he wasn’t going to leave Sergey.
His frantic gaze landed on the pilot’s ejection handle.
Perfect.
He ripped Sergey’s harness away and caught him before he tumbled out of his seat. Manhandling him, he maneuvered Sergey across the central terminal, until Sergey straddled his lap. He tucked Sergey’s face against his neck. “Hold on,lyubov moya.”Hold on, my love.
Sasha wrapped one arm around Sergey and gripped his rifle. He reached down and jerked the ejection handle with the other.
The top panel of the Beriev blasted off with a bang. It clattered across the ice, snaking away from the crash, and a split second later, the pilot’s seat blasted out of the plane, screaming sideways over the ice, straight for the line of Madigan’s men.
His second ejection was worse than the first. At least in the first, he’d gone straight into the air. This time, Sasha skidded half a foot above the ice cap. The wind tore at his skin. Ice blistered off the cap, slicing his face. Snow pelted his eyes, and he squeezed them closed as he roared. He held on to Sergey as tight as he could, both arms wrapped around his love.
Do not forget to shoot.Gritting his teeth, Sasha extended his rifle behind Sergey’s back and fired blindly on Madigan’s men.
ETHAN, JACK, AND SCOTT watched, jaws hanging, as Sasha rocketed across the ice, blasting away at Madigan’s men. His shots were wild, unfocused, but he took out one of the attackers and stunned the others. Everyone stopped and stared as he shot through their line, blasting a hundred yards down the ice cap.
“Fire! Now!” Ethan rose up and started shooting. Scott joined him, and then Jack. In moments, the RPG shooter was down, and then a fourth. “Two more!” Ethan shouted.
They were a tricky last two, though, crouched behind their snowmobiles and firing sparingly. Battle-hardened, if Ethan had to guess. Conserving their ammo. Playing it safe.
“Reinforcements arriving,” Scott growled. “I see one inbound on a snowmobile.”
“I don’t have a shot yet.” Ethan kept his sights fixed on his last target. “Jack?”
