Page 99 of Leading Conviction
“It doesn’t have to be this way!” Hawk tried one more time. “There’s six of us and only three of you—”
Another shot rang out and sliced through the toolbox he and Jaybird were uselessly trying to cover behind. His brown eyebrows rose in shock below his black helmet.
“Guess this sucks as a hiding spot,” Jaybird snorted.
Unless the team emerged from their hiding places all at once, they could potentially be picked off like flies. He peered around the toolbox but surmised what he already knew. There wasn’t much fucking cover.
I can’t die. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got Hannah again.
They couldn’t just sit there and wait anymore. Their opponents were using high-caliber rounds. Hawk and Jaybird were sitting ducks.
“I’m not dying behind a fucking toolbox,” Hawk growled.
“They’re stalling, they know we’ve got six to their three,” Jaybird replied with a wicked smile. “Ready to give ’em hell?”
“Ready,” Hawk answered.
He motioned his teammates to get ready to storm the rooftop. After taking a fortifying breath, he held up his gloved fingers and counted off.
Three… Two… One…
He chopped his hand through the air and BlackStone jumped out of hiding. They blitzed in full force, firing off at every corner of the roof to drive the other men farther behind their shelters.
In Hawk’s periphery, Devil and Snake circled a turbine vent to attack the pair of gunmen sheltering behind it. They were ready for the onslaught, though, and weapons fired on both sides. Devil and Snake were too fast and too close for their adversaries to fire back effectively, enabling them to quickly disarm their opponents.
Simultaneously, Phoenix and Draco found the third man near the stairwell door. With two on one, he smartly dropped his weapon and raised his hands.
Devil and Snake kicked and threw their opponents’ guns to the side, but their adversaries didn’t go down without a fight. Literally. The men sprang to their feet, resorting to fists and knives in a sparring match that became a brawl within seconds.
“Jaybird!” Hawk called as he pointed toward the combat between Snake, Devil, and their counterparts. Hawk’s boots slapped against the pavement of the roof as he pumped his legs, trying to get there before one of his men got hurt.
Fifteen meters…
Ten…
Five—
Three black-clad men darted onto the roof behind the unarmed man that Phoenix and Draco had cornered. Their new foes had their weapons at the ready, their posture perfect for quick firing. Four against two. Hawk only had a moment to decide which direction to go, but at a dead sprint, his body and muscle memory made the choice before his mind could catch up.
He gained speed and kicked his right foot out to skid on the asphalt—keeping his left leg bent underneath him like his T-ball coach taught him years ago—and aimed for the group from the side. He barreled into the newcomers’ ankles like he was sliding into home base and knocked them down before they could fully assess their surroundings. Grunts, curses, and yells punctured the air as their adversaries crumpled on top of him.
A second thud followed shortly behind his, with Jaybird having taken Hawk’s wordless cue, tackling the men the rest of the way to the ground.
Fists crashed, clothes tore, and weapons clattered to the pavement. Their melee splintered into singular battles, each man one on one with his counterpart, seeking an advantage.
Hawk bounced to his feet and stood, finding his opponent directly in front of him. He was big—almost as big as Devil—and decked out in elite military garb, just like the rest of his team. Focused, deep-green eyes shone back at him from under the man’s tactical helmet.
Use his size against him. Don’t lose your head.
The man lunged for Hawk. Meaty fingers managed to clench a section of Hawk’s vest, yanking him off balance. Instead of fighting the momentum, Hawk used it to jerk the man down to the ground with him. Pained gasps wheezed from them both as they collided against the concrete roof. Not giving them a moment to catch their breaths, the man charged again, but Hawk rolled to the side and landed on his knees.
As his opponent pulled back for a punch, Hawk grabbed the wrist the man was balancing on and snatched it out from under him. The man caught himself while Hawk’s other hand slid his combat knife out from its sheath. Hawk couldn’t remember ever moving that fast, but the knife was at the man’s throat in an instant.
His opponent froze.
Hawk tightened his steel grip on the man’s wrist and pressed the blade into his neck, forcing the man to slowly stand with him. Once they were on their feet, Hawk moved closer to the large man’s side, twisting his foe’s arm behind his back and keeping the knife steady at his neck.
The summer’s rising sun was already beginning to heat the air around them. Sweat dripped off of his brow as Hawk flicked his gaze around the rooftop, where he found similar outcomes to the individual combats. But his teammates hadn’t won every battle.
