him. She eased her rifle into position.
Minutes passed. Not even a twig snapped. Her heart felt like it was leaving bruises on her rib cage. The second guy had disappeared from her sight line. Psycho leaned back on the hood of the truck between the headlights and pulled on his goggles. Surely he’d see two figures, not one? From there he could open fire—she wouldn’t put it past him to take out his own guy, just to get Flynn. He yelled. His friend replied from out of sight. Oh God, Flynn. Stay alive.
She caught a flicker of movement behind the bed of the truck. Crap, a third man—bigger than the others. Flynn wouldn’t have factored him in. She fixed him in the scope, finger light on the trigger. Don’t shoot unless you have to—but don’t hesitate, either.
He disappeared from view behind the truck. Still no movement at the tree line. The beam of the farthest headlight flickered as a dark shape shot past. The new guy. She swung the barrel, searching for him. Psycho jerked backward. A column of light pinned two grappling figures, one wearing desert camos. Whoa. She eased her finger off the trigger. The new guy was Flynn.
He had Psycho in a headlock, his other hand clamped on his wrist, trying to wrestle away a handgun. Psycho shouted. They lurched out of the light and disappeared behind the truck. Scuffling, a meaty crack, a thud. Oh God. Dust puffed across the headlight beams.
The other goon ran out of the scrub, rifle leveled, shouting into a comms device on his shoulder. Hell, even if Flynn were winning, this guy would take him out. And then reinforcements would come...
She couldn’t just watch. Screw Flynn’s orders.
She jumped up and yelped, as if she’d hurt herself. The guy turned. She let out another screech and flattened onto the dirt, panting, directing her shaky fingers onto the trigger.
The goon’s face snapped up, scanning the bushes. Behind him, a figure staggered out from behind the truck, wearing NVGs and an oversize military jacket, tugging down his cap. Psycho. She swallowed a squeak. That crack she’d heard... Psycho wouldn’t have walked away if Flynn were alive. Tears stung. Shit, shit, shit. He was dead, and she was screwed.
No. She still had a chance, if she took out both goons before they started shooting.
One burst.
Don’t hesitate.
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