Page 31 of Jason Bourne
We fell into formation, boots crunching over the frosted ground, the beam of Nate’s tracker light sweeping the brush. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I’d missed this—the silent coordination, the pulse of adrenaline, the way danger sharpened every sense.
“Lane,” Forest called softly from the front. He held something up.
A cracked cell phone, its screen spiderwebbed.
Marcie’s.
My stomach clenched. We were close.
Too close.
Because a second later, Rush raised his fist. He’d caught the sound before the rest of us—the metallic snap of a rifle bolt chambering a round.
We weren’t alone.
34
Lane
The crack of the rifle bolt was like thunder in the quiet night.
“Down!” Rush barked.
We hit the dirt just as a shot split the air, snapping a branch clean off the pine above my head.
“Two shooters, east ridge!” Nate called, eyes scanning the tree line through his scope.
Jason slid in beside me, steady as ever. “Lane—you good?”
“Never better,” I growled, chambering my Glock. My heart pounded, but the fear sharpened everything—sound, sight, instinct.
Another round was fired. Fraiser returned one clean shot that drove the gunman deeper into cover. “They’re testing us.”
“Then let’s show them who they’re testing,” Forest said, calm and lethal.
I motioned to the left flank. “Nate, Fraiser—push wide and cut them off. Rush, hold the ridge. Forest, Jason you’re with me.”
No hesitation. They moved the instant I gave the order. Jason’s eyes flicked over me, a flash of pride.She’s not just holding her ground. She’s leading.
We crawled forward, using the brush for cover. Harris’s men were sloppy—amateurs compared to this team. Still, amateurs with rifles could kill just as quick.
Forest’s hand shot out, signaling stop. Ahead, through the pines, two shadows shifted. One of them laughed—low, cruel, like this was a game.
“Kid’s scared out of her mind,” one voice said. “Boss says keep her quiet till morning.”
My blood ran ice. Marcie. She was here.
I raised three fingers, counting down. Forest read my intent without a word.
Three. Two. One.
We broke from cover in perfect sync. Forest dropped the first man with a brutal tackle. I slammed the second against a tree, my forearm under his throat, my Glock pressed to his ribs.
“Where is she?” I snarled.
He choked, eyes wild. “Sh-shed…by the creek.”
Forest cuffed the first man and dragged him to the ground. Jason appeared out of the dark, rifle raised, eyes cutting to me. “You got this?”
