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Preacher identified his shooter.It was easy. He’d made no effort to hide himself.
The sniper shouldered the rifle and meandered down the scaffolding platform, then paused for a moment to look down at Preacher, defying him. No. taunting him. Then he disappeared into the wire cage and pulled the mesh door closed. But Preacher was already across the road to the shack, pushing past the workers and running down a dirt hill to the yard below. Behind the equipment, he slowed, his boots hitting gravel on the ground. The mesh door was still swinging on its hinges, and he used a dozer’s bucket for cover.
He’d go for close quarters, he thought, nowhere to hide. Left was the warehouse and though he was near the street, the sniper’s car was a way off. He was going to go for the car sure as hell. He focused on the neighboring cranes, and the path the guy took down. There were too many levels and places to hide but he had to risk it.
Preacher darted toward the warehouse as a shot hit the steel wall. The ring of it brought heads up.Trying to get my attention, asshole,he thought, and waved workers back, showing his weapon when they just gaped. He rushed toward the half-constructed building, keeping the machinery on his right, ducking once to search for movement and continue. He glanced around the warehouse, the equipment, then spotted a shadow inside the rear wall. It was the only wall completed alongside rows of unfinished storage buildings, and he hurried closer, sliding alongside the steel frames. He peered. Chains hung from the rafters and pooled on the floor.
“Preacher?”
“Go,” he said softly.
“It was a ruse. They had Volk’s phone.”
“Copy that.” He shouldn’t be surprised. He only knew that NSH was pissing him off, and he was sure they had some hidden agenda they were angling to promote. He hoped that didn’t mess with her head.
The catwalk hinges scraped, and a figure swung down, then dropped to the concrete floor. As the man straightened, Preacher recognized the threat before he saw the weapon. Preacher fired first, the bullet clipping the sniper’s shoulder, and he staggered, losing the gun, but kept coming. Preacher braced himself for the attack. Like a linebacker, the man bolted with his head down to ram him, and when he was close, Preacher leapt aside. The man sailed past, staggered, and Preacher kicked at his backside, knocking him off his feet. The guy hit the ground head first, sliding a bit.
Preacher rushed, grabbed his shirt, relieved him of his knife, then bent to zip tie him. He fought.
The man curled himself up and rolled three times fast, breaking Preacher’s hold, then jumped to his feet. He grinned, then slapped his chest. “That all you got?”
Preacher smirked and raised his weapon. The man ducked to the side, and Preacher followed him with the barrel and fired. It met its mark, lower rib cage, and the guy flung forward. No blood. The guy stacked the deck with Kevlar, he thought, rushing along the wall. Water reflected movement in the puddles, and he swung his aim high. On a stack of lumber above him, the shooter threw a bola and it hit the muzzle of his weapon, knocking it out of his hand, twisting his wrist and fingers. The weapon flew, hit, then spun across the cement as Preacher darted behind another stack of lumber. Leaning back against the metal wall, he flexed his wrist and fingers. The stun vibrated up his arm.
The man chuckled. The sound came from his left, nearby.
Preacher spotted his gun against the loading doors, but there wasn’t any cover to get to it and he had to assume the shooter was better armed. He freed his combat knife from the sheath around his ankle.
In the shadows, he waited.
* * *
Karasu ranto where she’d left Preacher, and as she approached, she heard gunfire. She tried to pinpoint the location. It was distant, the report faint. She bolted past the closed tobacco plant to the unfinished side of the building. Men crouched, vigorously waving her in the right direction, and she hurried through the overgrown grasses. Her foot hit something and she stumbled, then turned back. She picked up the sniper’s rifle. Empty. Dropped it, ran to the warehouse, and slipped inside. Dry wall and lumber were stacked high, making a corridor. She heard rustling and moved toward the rear, then spotted the staircase to the catwalk. She mounted slowly, stopping at the top step to search below.
Beyond the piles of supplies, she spotted Preacher near the heavy chains used to swing buckets to deliver supplies to the upper levels. He was armed with his combat knife, and she inched up to search the area. His opponent was moving left, and she signaled him, but he didn’t see her. Then it didn’t matter.
Preacher’s expression was one of a pissed-off warrior. Not good for the sniper. The two circled, then clashed. Preacher blocked, his leg swinging high and knocking the man’s head. He landed in a crouch, ready to spring again. He never let go of the knife. The shooter wobbled on his feet, shook his head to clear it, and Karasu saw the cuts staining his clothes. The attacker threw his fist, and Preacher blocked with an upward swipe and opened the other man’s cheek, a downward slash cut his stomach. Preacher’s execution was like a man possessed, but his opponent was skilled, pushing him back by brute force until they were grappling, Preacher’s long arms keeping his own knife from his face. Karasu aimed but with so much movement, she was worried about hitting Preacher.
They bucked apart, and the guy said something she couldn’t hear. In the next moment, he was stumbling back from a punch. Preacher held his fists up like a boxer, each blow jerking the guy’s head back. He went down by the third blow. Preacher stood over him, breathing hard, then stooped to search him.
Karasu climbed down the iron steps and moved around the shorter stacks. She picked up Preacher's weapon, then approached. The blast of a car horn sounded. The man stiff-armed Preacher in the face, rolling to his feet and bolting to the wide open doors, but Preacher was on him. The sniper grabbed a dangling chain and flung it, hitting Preacher in the chest. He caught it and using it like Tarzan, cruised across twenty feet, driving his boots into the merc’s chest. The sniper flew back, hit the cement, and was still only for a second before he rolled to his feet and bolted out the gaping opening. The car horn blast came again.
When she moved around the stacks of lumber, Preacher was gone, running after his target. She followed, her direction wider, covering his back. The attacker raced down the hill to the waiting car. He jumped inside and it sped off.
12
Preacher watched the car accelerate,swearing. Suddenly, Karasu pulled up in the Rover and he jumped inside. She sped after the fleeing NSH guys.
“Not bad, Shadowguard.”
“I like to keep you on your toes.” She grinned. “Car chases are always fun, but they’re much more fun with you.”
He chuckled. Most of the time he was loaded down with gear, chasing bad guys with seven other badasses, but this was a change of pace and off-the-cuff. There was no planning here, just seat-of-the-pants decisions.
They raced out of the side road onto the main warehouse road. The white four-door sedan skidded around a corner and headed into the fifth district. The sniper in the passenger seat leaned out the window and threw some shots at them. Karasu swerved, the sound of the bullets pinging on the metal.
They whizzed past more warehouses and manufacturing. Up ahead a semi tractor-trailer truck started to pull out. The white sedan never braked but rolled around it. Adrenaline dropped into his system as the gap between the semi and the road closed.
“Hang on,” Karasu said as she swerved to miss the semi before the gap completely closed and they lost the sedan.
