AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No time,” he rasped. “They know we’re here. Get up! Follow me!” and he lurched to his feet, stumbling but quickly righting himself.
Lauren picked up his AK-47, shoving it into his hands. Morozov was weak from loss of blood. And now, they were being hunted by three other lethal, silent operators.
Alex cursed. “Fiveand six are NOT tangos!” He got up on one knee, pulling his AK-47 up, unsafing it.
Killmer grunted, ordering his men to his side. “Who the fuck are they?” he growled, staring down the hill.
“I do not know. But they are running away from the ambush.”
Suddenly, the night lit up with flashes of muzzle fire. The roar of rifles being fired shattered the silence. Alex dove for the ground. So did the soldiers. He looked up. Petrov and his men were not firing up at them! They were firing at five and six!
“We need to help them,” Alex snarled.
“Petrov hasn’t spotted us yet,” Killmer said. He gave hand signals, spreading out his other men. The closer they were grouped together, the more likely a grenade could kill all of them in one toss.
More gunfire.
Alex watched as five and six returned fire. They were spread apart by about ten feet, presenting less of a target. Both were firing slow and careful. Like operators. Could they be rival mafia gang members? It just didn’t seem possible to him.
“They’re on the move!” Killmer hissed, jabbing a finger toward the ambush site.
Alex followed the muzzle fire as the three Russians ran after five and six.
“Where’s four?” Killmer demanded, getting up on one knee, rifle ready.
Alex followed him. Where was four? What had happened to him? Was that four who fought with five and six? Confused, he followed Killmer as he crouched and ran at a slant, almost paralleling the three Russians who were now chasing down five and six. The Special Forces sergeant wanted to get closer; make sure that when he fired, he’d hit his target. They were closing the distance rapidly, slipping and sliding through the muck, rain puddles and spongy earth. The smell of rifle fire met and stung his flared nostrils. The night was in chaos. And Petrov still had not made them. The Russians were focused on the other two who were rapidly putting distance between themselves and Petrov.
Alex surged forward in a crouch, grabbing Killmer’s arm, halting him. They both knelt, lowering their profile. Killmer turned to him, his eyes slits, glittering with intensity. “We need one of those Russians alive,” Alex rasped. “We need to find out where they have Lauren.”
Killmer nodded. “We’ll make sure,” he promised roughly. “Let’s go!”
Alex kept distance between himself and Killmer. He kept the last man in his sights. He was close enough now to see it was Petrov. Two hundred yards separated them. The Russians were so focused on five and six that they didn’t even realize how quickly Alex and the rest were closing in on them. Rage swept through Alex. He wanted Petrov.That bastard was HIS!
Suddenly, another firefight broke out. He saw muzzle flashes lighting up the night. Five and six were making a stand. And all three Russians were rushing them, firing slow but consistently, trying to kill them. To make matters even worse, the bullets being fired by five and six were snapping around Alex’s own position! He felt the heat of a bullet passing so close by his cheek that it burned the skin. He saw Killmer hit the ground. So did he.
Lauren almost criedout when Morozov suddenly crumpled ten feet away from her. He’d passed out from loss of blood. She leapt to her feet, eyes on him and the two other Russians stalking them. Dropping to her knees, she hauled the heavy medic around the side of a low boulder about four feet high and ten feet wide. She knelt, aiming her AK-47 at the first Russian. She fired once. Twice. The man screamed. He tumbled backward, his rifle flying out of his hands.
Sweat ran down into her eyes. Her breathing was chaotic from the effort. Her cool sniper control took over. She couldn’t aim well if her chest were heaving up and down. She saw another Russian race behind a tree, fifty yards to her right, trying to skirt behind her. Twisting around, she fired three times. Wood and bark splinters exploded from the tree the Russian was crouching behind. He ran.
Bullets started flying by her head, coming from another direction. They hit the boulder protecting her. Sparks and chips of rock went flying everywhere. Lauren felt the shards striking her face and neck. She didn’t even notice the sting of them, the adrenaline making her impervious to pain. More fire poured into her position and she had to duck behind the rock, covering her head.
Just then, she sensed danger coming from behind her. Jerking her chin up, she saw the other Russian raising his AK-47 directly at her, no more than twenty feet away. He was grinning.
Snapping up her rifle, she twisted and grunted, throwing herself protectively across Morozov, firing as she moved. The Russian fired twice.
The bullets struck her in the chest. Lauren was slammed backward into the rock, her chest on fire. She couldn’t breathe. She felt pain radiate throughout her and she felt her rifle falling from her hand.No! Oh, God, no!The Russian was grinning, moving slowly toward her, the barrel of his AK-47 pointed at her head.
She jerked the Glock 19 out of her drop holster. Everything slowed down to single motion frames like in a movie. The look of glee in the Russian’s eyes burned into her. He fired.
The Glock spun out of her hand. Lauren cried out, feeling her hand go numb and useless. She tried to scramble to get her sidearm back. The Russian was almost on top of her, still smiling. Barely able to breathe, sobbing for breath, she watched him, knowing he was going to go for a headshot. She saw his confidence. He wasn’t afraid of her. But she had a balaclava on. He didn’t know she was a woman. It wouldn’t have made any difference.
Just as the Russian strode the last few feet between them, she saw a flash of movement from behind her. A knife glinted through the air. Right at the Russian.
Gasping, Lauren saw the knife stick through the throat of the Russian. He gurgled and stopped, his eyes bulging. He dropped the AK-47, his thick, meaty hands going for the blade. Blood was spurting out of his neck as he staggered around. And then, he toppled over backward, jerking and rolling away from them.
Morozov sat up, giving her a look. “Get the rifle!”
Lauren realized Nik had regained consciousness, and he’d had just enough strength left to pull the knife from his left calf sheath and throw it with deadly ease. But he slumped onto his back again, his effort spent for now. She looked down at her right hand. It was bloody. She couldn’t feel it. Frantically, she turned around in a crouch, diving for her AK-47. Luckily, she had learned to fire with either hand; something a lot of Marine Corps snipers taught themselves. For just this very reason; if one hand didn’t work, the other sure as hell would.
