Page 45 of Defended By the SEAL
Truth be told, he wasn’t just worried about Charlotte. He liked nothing about this setup one bit. They needed to be here, that was for certain, but they stood out like targets against the pure white snow, their dark clothing all but screaming their individual locations clear across the bay. The massive boulders helped, for sure, but a little Snowdrift camo would go a long way toward increasing his comfort level, and there wasn’t a damn thing Cowboy could do about that.
“Movement near the dock,” Deke’s voice crackled softly over the earpiece.
“Copy that,” Cowboy replied, watching as a pair of men got into a small dinghy and motored to the larger anchored vessel. Their tiny boat had far less contact with the water, making it much more susceptible to the movement of thewaves. He wouldn’t want to be on that boat right now, no two ways about that one.
His men had already discussed the plan at length. Sink the big boat by all means necessary. It had been a short discussion. He hoped it would be an even shorter mission. If they got the big man himself and Sarkisyan was out of the equation, maybe this could even be a one-and-done scenario.
He doubted it, but there was nothing wrong with optimism.
“Adding a phase two to our detailed battle plan,” he said. “Sink the little boat, too. We don’t need this guy getting away.”
Booger’s voice came over the comm set. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to remember all this.”
Cowboy glanced at Tom, who was positioned behind a different boulder, his face set in grim determination. For a man who’d spent years smuggling people to safety, Tom handled a weapon like someone who’d seen combat before. Probably had, Cowboy figured. You didn’t get tangled up with someone like Sarkisyan without walking through fire.
Austin’s voice cut in next. “Looks like they’re prepping to load something onto the boat. Crates, maybe supplies. Whatever it is, they’re moving fast.”
Cowboy nodded, even though no one could see him. “They’re spooked. They’ve got to know we’re onto them since their hostages disappeared.”
“Should we make a move?” Charlotte asked, her voice steady despite the tension in it.
“Not yet.” Cowboy resisted the urge to tell her that was nothing for her to worry about, but decided against it. He scanned the scene, calculating their odds. Sarkisyan’s men were spread out, but there were enough of them to make anopen assault risky. The element of surprise was their only advantage, and they needed to use it wisely.
“Wait for my signal,” he said. “Deke, Booger, you take the left flank. Tom, Austin, you’re with me. Aim to disrupt their loading operation and get me some holes in that boat. We need to pin them down.”
“Got it,” Deke replied.
“Roger that,” Booger added, his usual humor absent for once.
Cowboy shifted his weight, ignoring the ache in his ribs. He adjusted his grip on his rifle and turned to Charlotte, holding down the button to mute his mic. “Stick close. Don’t do anything stupid.”
She gave him a look that could’ve frozen hell. “That’s my line.”
Cowboy smirked despite himself. “Fair enough.”
“Ready?” he whispered, his breath fogging in the cold air.
“Ready,” came the chorus of replies.
Cowboy raised his hand, then dropped it in a sharp motion. “Go.”
Gunfire erupted as their group moved into action. Deke and Booger’s shots rang out from the left, drawing immediate return fire from Sarkisyan’s men—though it took them a moment to figure out where the team was hunkered down. Cowboy stayed low behind a boulder as he fired toward the dock and clipped the dinghy.
The chaos intensified as Sarkisyan’s men scrambled to defend their position. Cowboy ducked behind a crate, bullets thudding into the wood as he leaned out to return fire. The sharp tang of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the salt of the sea.
Like taking candy from a baby.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” snapped Deke. “They’re firing behind us. Repeat, they’ve got eyes behind the beach.”
Fear unlike anything Cowboy had ever known roared to life within him. Charlotte was on the beach. He’d brought an untrained civilian to a gunfight, assuming she’d be safe, and his own stupidity astounded him. He turned sideways and saw her on the edge of his field of vision, her gun up in firing position as she aimed behind him.
“Get down, Charlotte!” he yelled, oblivious to Sariskyan in that moment, unaware of his mission and desperate to protect her. “Get down!”
The saw the flash from the end of her gun as she fired, and he turned just in time to see a man drop from his perch in a tree a hundred yards behind him. Stunned beyond belief, he realized that she’d just saved his life, even as he wanted to throw himself on top of her as a human shield.
He didn’t know if there were more shooters behind him, didn’t know of any way to keep her safe. All he could do was aim at Sariskyan’s boat and pray for the best, aware that the one person he loved more than any other on god’s green earth was standing in the middle of harm’s way, and he was the stupid son of a bitch who’d put her there.
Time became a series of snapshots, instants captured in his memory like the view of an oncoming train headed straight for him. He was aware of sounds, shots, and yells of pain or frustration, the barked report from a member of the team in his ear. But he was most aware of one voice he hadn’t heard in far longer than he cared to contemplate.
