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Kill or be killed.
* * *
The chopper slowly comes in, and as soon as they pass where they can see me, I walk forward and lean my rifle on the handrail to look through the glass eyepiece.
I rearrange my finger on the trigger and I wait. I have gone over every possible scenario in my head a million times, and I honestly believe this is the only way I stand a chance to catch them unaware. If I wait, I risk Stace trying to take him out first and then it may be too late. This is the only way I can guarantee Stace’s safety.
Ten years of practice in a shooting range and it all comes down to this.
If I miss, I’m dead.
If I hit, I’m also dead.
But Stace will be alive, and he will know that I love him.
My eyes cloud over and I shake my head to remove the fog.
Focus.
I stare through the lens and I count three men in the chopper. The pilot, a guard and then him.
I take aim and watch as the pilot goes through the shut down technique.
“Just get out of the chopper,” I whisper.
I tighten my grip on the trigger as my heart hammers heavily in my chest.
“Kill or be killed,” I breathe.
Stace approaches the chopper and then opens the door and I narrow my eyes as I steel myself.
Holy… fucking shit.
The guard gets out and shakes Stace’s hand, and I follow his head with the gun. I go back to the chopper and follow the next head. Wearing a dark, clearly expensive suit, he slowly gets out and shakes Stace’s hand.
I narrow my eyes. “Just a little to the left,” I whisper as my hand shakes nervously. He moves over a little. “That’s it.” He moves to the left and I take aim and pull the trigger. I miss and confusion sets in. The men all start to run.
Fuck.
I take aim again and with my heartbeat furiously pumping, I pull the trigger, and this time, the man in the suit falls to the deck.
I take aim at the guard and shoot him in the thigh. He also crumples in a heap.
I did it.
With adrenaline pumping hard, I sprint down the metal stairs.
The alarms start to sound and I know everyone is watching. With my gun in my hands I run across the deck toward them.
Stace looks up at me in horror.
“Rosh!” he screams. “No!”
The pilot grabs a handgun and I lift my rifle and shoot him in the leg.
“Get in the chopper!” I scream.
“What?” Stace yells.
