Page 84 of Rescuing Erin

“This is taking too long,” Zane complained.

“Patience, brother.” I placed my hand on his arm.

“Fuck that.” He started to move, and I grabbed him with more force.

“If you rush in there and get—”

“Grenade out the door. Cover!” Leo yelled.

My body jolted, and I stumbled back from the concussion. Zane was on his ass next to me, but I couldn’t see Rocco through all the smoke and debris.

“Rocco?”

“Good,” he answered.

“Patience,” I told Zane once again.

“They’re filing out. I see five out the front door,” Bubba announced.

“Six out the back,” Jax counted.

“Pick ’em off,” Zane ordered.

Once the three of us were back on our feet and the rapid gunfire from all around had begun to slow, it was finally our turn.

“I’m on point. Breeze, you’re my second. Rocco, take our six.”

We both acknowledged our roles and waited.

“Leo. Bubba. Lay down cover.”

Zane took off in a sprint, and I followed. We were almost to the door when a hot searing pain hit my right bicep, and my step faltered. I swung around but before I could pull the trigger, the man who’d shot me fell sideways and hit the dirt. I’d seen a lot of fucked-up shit, but a head shot from a .338 Lapua at under five-hundred-yards took the cake. A large portion of the man’s head was gone. Just gone.

We breached the door, and all hell broke loose. Men dressed in black were everywhere. Every time we’d take out a room full of them another wave came, like locusts, from the back of the house.

“Reload,” Zane called out and he dropped behind what was a table but now had more holes in it than a sieve.

“Jesus. It’s like a clown car. Where the hell are these fuckers coming from?” Rocco complained.

There was a lull, and, even though I had doubled up on hearing protection, my ears were still ringing, and my right arm was burning.

“There’s a creeper coming in the door. I don’t have a clear shot without hitting one of you. He’s there in five, four, three, two, now.”

I turned and fired two shots, he’d barely hit the dirt when I heard Leo in my ear. “You’re clear.”

“I’m runnin’ low on ammo, Z. This needs to end.”

I was down to my last hundred rounds, which sounded like a lot until it wasn’t. Then you’re left standing there with your dick in your hand getting shot full of holes.

Zane answered with a nod and began advancing into the next room. The entire place was torn to shit. The smell of gunfire hung thick in the air, coupled with the coppery smell of blood. I had to step over several men littered on the dirty cabin floor. They were everywhere. I’d seen fewer dead men in an Isis hideout.

Rocco motioned he was breaking left and moments later, he called out the all clear and joined us back in what I assumed was a dining room. Zane pointed to the only door that hadn’t been cleared. He quickly opened the door, moving to the side as he did.

I internally groaned when I saw the stairs. A basement. My least favorite room to clear. Without being able to use explosives, we were sitting ducks. As soon as we started to descend the stairs, we could be picked off by whoever was down there.

“The famous Zane Lewis, I presume.” A voice floated up.

I didn’t recognize the voice, not that I would’ve been able to with the now constant pounding in my skull.