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Calvin reached the twenty-first floor and found the empty office that would place him directly across from the twenty-first floor of the Deimos Tower. He quickly pulled the zip down on his bag and deftly went about assembling his rifle. As officers, there were times when they were forced to draw their weapons and, in life-threatening situations, fire and possibly kill someone.
As a sniper, he would have to sit and watch his target for perhaps hours. From his perch, it was plausible to develop a strange type of intimacy with his target, something that was unlikely to happen when, as a last resort, forced to fire on a threat.
With his rifle assembled, Calvin secured it to the tripod and adjusted his position. He looked through his scope. Getting a clear shot of the interior of Deimos Tower was going to be a challenge. Indoors he was dealing with blinds, shutters, furniture, equipment, and a dozen other things that could obstruct his view. He took a steady breath and focused. Not everyone was capable of detaching themselves emotionally. For every THIRDS sniper, there were legal, moral, and ethical issues to work through. Calvin tapped his earpiece.
“Sloane, I’m in position.”
“Do you have a visual?”
“Affirmative.” Calvin scanned the waiting area behind the reception desk of the floor. Ruiz was pacing in the center, surrounded by terrified Therian and Human hostages huddled together. One lay on the floor in a pool of blood, unmoving. Another was clutching her bloodied shoulder. “Sloane, we’ve got one hostage down. He’s not moving, and there’s a large amount of blood underneath his head.” Calvin quickly but carefully swept his gaze over the victim. Shit. “I’ve got an entry wound to the head. He’s gone. There’s another hostage injured. Shot to the shoulder. We’ve got a third hostage on the floor, but she’s breathing. Eight hostages total. Suspect has a gun.” Ruiz shouted into the phone, and Calvin cursed under his breath. “His fangs are elongated. He’s agitated enough to shift.”
“Shit. Okay. Negotiator’s managed to convince him to let her in to talk to him, but he’s not letting anyone else near the building. It’s all you now.”
“Affirmative.”
With Sloane unavailable to make the call, it fell to Calvin. The moment it looked like Ruiz was going to pull that trigger, Calvin would take the shot. It seemed like forever before the negotiator reached the floor. The dark-haired wolf Therian agent walked in with her hands held up in front of her to show Ruiz she wasn’t hiding any weapons. Through her com, Calvin could hear everything going on. Ruiz demanded she stay where she was by the elevator. Calvin remained stock-still, his breathing steady as he focused on the scene before him. As everyone waited with bated breath, Calvin listened to Ruiz screaming at the negotiator, telling her how the disgraceful people on the floor had destroyed his life, his family. How they’d robbed his children of their home. There were tears streaming down his reddened face, and he switched between Spanish and English.
The minutes ticked by, and Calvin barely blinked. His muscles strained, but he didn’t dare move. He simply waited. The conversation between Ruiz and the negotiator got heated when one of the suits moved. Shit. What are you doing, you idiot. Stay down. In the blink of an eye, it all went to hell. Ruiz spat in indignation at the man in the suit, the guy arguing with him. The negotiator ordered the guy to stand down, but the hostility escalated beyond her control, growing volatile until Ruiz swung his arm up to fire at the suit.
Calvin pulled the trigger. Mr. Ruiz crumpled to the ground.
It was over.
Letting out a slow breath, Calvin straightened. He tapped his earpiece. “Sloane, the threat has been neutralized.”
“Affirmative. Get back to the BearCat.”
Calvin quickly went to work taking his rifle apart. His mind was clear as he returned the pieces to his black bag, followed by the tripod. When everything was packed away, he grabbed his bag and left the room. It was like he’d never been there.
He descended the stairs and walked out of the building toward the BearCat. A reporter approached him from behind the truck. What the fuck? Why was the press out here?
“Agent Summers, you’re the sniper officer for Destructive Delta. Did you kill Mr. Ruiz?”
Calvin gritted his teeth and made to go around the reporter, when the assistant pushed a camera in his face. Just what he fucking needed. Someone was going to get their ass kicked over this. Calvin turned away as a group of THIRDS agents rushed the news team. He climbed into the BearCat, then slammed the back doors shut.
“Son of a bitch!” Calvin dropped his bag on the floor. He paced before tapping his earpiece. “Sloane, we have a problem.”
Sloane’s voice came in over his earpiece. “What is it?”
“I just got a camera shoved in my face.” The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he got. “What the fuck were they doing by the truck? They were waiting for me. The reporter called me by name and knew my position on the team. He asked me if I’d killed Mr. Ruiz.”
“Shit. Who was it?”
“You know who. The same assholes who are always making shit up and calling it news.”
“Sit tight. I’m going to look into it.”
“Okay.” Calvin snatched up his bag and returned it to the weapons locker. That fucking reporter had caught him off guard. Whether he was right or not about him being the one who pulled the trigger wouldn’t matter to the public. If they saw the footage of him being asked if he’d killed Ruiz, they’d assume he had. They’d seen his face. Calvin slammed the weapons locker door closed and pulled his tablet from his tac pants pocket. He went online to the news station’s website. There it was in full-color, front-page headlines: “Human THIRDS sniper kills Therian during hostage negotiation.”
“Son of a motherfucking bitch!” And then the press wondered why they were so goddamn hated by THIRDS agents. Kills Therian? They purposefully left out that the Therian was the hostage taker. Calvin stopped the guy from killing a second hostage. Two others were badly injured. And why the hell did they have to bring up that he was Human? Would it have mattered if it had been a Therian sniper? As if the rest of that damned headline wasn’t volatile enough. They hadn’t even bothered to confirm their information. Under the headline, they had a photograph of him in his ceremonial uniform, his expression hard and his eyes red. He looked like shit. They’d gone out and found the worst picture of him. His anger threatened to bubble over. It was a picture of him at Gabe’s funeral. Next to his image was a photograph of a smiling Ruiz with his family, and beside it, one of him being rolled away on a gurney in a body bag by Hudson and Nina.
There was nothing Calvin wanted more than to hunt down the bastard who’d had the fucking audacity to use that image of him in this sorry excuse for a news article. It was blatantly biased against the THIRDS, using manipulative language to paint him as some kind of trigger-happy dickbag. They’d all but called him a Therian hater.
By the time the team returned to the truck, Calvin was seething. According to Sloane, the PR department was running damage control. The image of him at Gabe’s funeral had been removed, but unfortunately there was little they could do about the article until the investigation was finished. Back at HQ, Calvin turned in his rifle for investigation as per protocol. He put his equipment away and prepared for his session with Dr. Benedict Winters. Then he’d start on his report, which would be read by his superiors, administrators, lawyers, and everyone else on God’s green earth that might question whether his decision to shoot Ruiz had been the right one.
Calvin understood the need to see the THIRDS-appointed psychologist. He was used to it by now. He’d have to see Dr. Winters for however many sessions was necessary until Dr. Winters signed him off. It wasn’t often Calvin found himself looking through his scope. The last time had been during the exchange between the Coalition when Ash was shot, but this case was different. To Calvin, it didn’t matter who was in his crosshairs, whether it was a deranged murderer like Isaac
Pearce or a father pushed too far like Fernando Ruiz. To him, he was doing his job keeping the public safe. For many, they could justify a kill when it was someone like Pearce or Hogan, and depending who was reporting the news, they were either victims of unfortunate circumstance or villains. In today’s scenario, no matter which way anyone looked at it, Calvin would be painted as the villain. Well, except maybe to the victims, but then he’d heard it all before, how the rich guys had brought it on themselves for being assholes. Did that mean they deserved to die?
