“Go ahead,” Jericho barked. He hated radio protocols, but that was a fight for a different day. Or for never, he remembered. He was getting out of this policing business. The radio wouldn’t be his problem soon. But already, that dream seemed to be receding.
“Assuming the road is passable, we’re sending you and Mosely County Three down it. Circle the incident and block approaching traffic.”
“We’re not traffic cops,” Kayla protested, but she wasn’t holding the handset. If she had been, she probably wouldn’t have said anything.
“Copy,” Jericho confirmed, then ignored the radio as he scanned the road ahead. “See it?” he asked Kayla once he’d found the break in the trees.
“This is bullshit,” she growled.
Of course she wanted to charge in with the rest of the team, wanted to be part of the action, wanted to prove she wasn’t the local yokel the feds seemed to take them all for. But the car ahead of them was Mosely Three and it had its turn signal on. Kayla wouldn’t leave any of her deputies without backup, and there was no time to argue with the assignments.
“Taking orders sucks,” Jericho agreed as they bounced off the main road onto the much rougher path. Kayla didn’t answer, so he busied himself with the GPS, then clicked on the radio handset. The road was so rutted he wished he had a third hand he could brace against the ceiling to steady himself. “Dispatch, County Five here. We’re coming up on a spot that’s really close to the active event. We could go cross-country on foot and get another angle on things.”
Kayla glanced at him, clearly wanting to see the GPS and confirm his observation. But the car was still bouncing and jouncing and she was fighting to keep it on the road, which was more like a wide hiking trail.
“Copy, County Five,” dispatch responded. “Stand by.”
The wait was agonizing. “We’re coming up on the best spot,” Jericho told Kay.
“It’s good?” she demanded. “This is a good path you’re seeing?”
He crouched down to get a better view of the terrain out her side of the vehicle. “If it’s passable, it’s good. And it looks passable.”
She reached over and flipped the siren on, just one long meeeeeep, the sound the department used to get the attention of other officers. Jericho was unlocking the M4 as Kay pulled them to a stop and by the time he had the ammo free of the glove box, she was out of the car, yelling instructions to the deputies, Meeks and— Shit. Meeks and Jackson.
Jericho hit the radio button. “Dispatch, County Three and Five are going cross-country. Advise other officers that we’ll be on the slope above the event.”
Outside the car, Jackson was arguing. “Dispatch directed us to—”
“I’m the sheriff,” Kayla said calmly. No showdown, no getting in his face, just a simple reminder as she checked her gear and then started for the slope. His objections clearly weren’t important enough for her to pay attention to. “Fall in.”
Meeks and Jericho jogged up beside her, and they started into the woods.
Jackson was still back at the car, messing with the radio.
“Jackson, fall in now.” Kayla barked.
He ignored her, holding on to the handset as if it were his route to salvation.
“Jackson, you’re suspended from duty,” Kayla said. “This is a restricted area. Remove yourself immediately—on foot, back along this road.”
And then she turned to Jericho, her eyes a little brighter than usual, her cheeks flushed, but her voice still strong and level. “Jay, this is your area of expertise. You direct.”
Too many tours of duty made that an unfortunate truth, and some part of Jay’s mind had already been calculating, analyzing. The hill was steep, the ground covered in duff and debris that made them slide back half a step for every one they took forward. But all three of them were fit, and they were moving well.
“Shit.” He sped up a little to get into the front. “I— Yeah, okay, but you guys tell me if you’ve got better ideas. I’ll take point; you guys pick a flank. Keep your eyes open, let me know if you see anything.” That was all straightforward enough. “We’ll have to get a better plan once we see what we’re into.”
That was when the sound of gunfire reached them. It was loud enough that Jericho knew the earlier silence had been because of a lull in the shooting, not because they’d been too far away to hear. He listened as he jogged up the hill, and his gut tightened. The noises were familiar, but after he got out of the military he’d hoped to never hear them again.
Automatic weapons, mixed in with a few single cracks, probably from the FBI agents’ handguns. So at least one of them was still able to fire back. Jericho wondered how much ammunition an FBI agent would carry on a casual drive, and he picked up his pace until he was practically sprinting up the hill.
He was almost to the top when he sensed movement, just over the rise of the hill, off to the right.
Instinct and training made him drop to the ground, waving for the others to lower themselves behind him. Then he crawled forward, fast but careful. He eased his head around the side of a tree and his forehead burned, just as it always did in situations like this, as if his skin was anticipating the bullet. At least two inches of vulnerable skull had to be exposed before his eyes made it clear of the tree and he could see what was going on.
Three men. Unfamiliar, dressed in mismatched camo, carrying some serious firepower. Jesus, one of them had a fucking grenade launcher.
Jericho glanced behind him, saw Kay and Meeks only a yard or so away, and gestured for them to move sideways along the ridge, to the right. Toward the men, but as long as the team stayed quiet, the groups should pass each other without notice. And then Kay and Meeks would be behind the action, ready to step in as needed.
