“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this one,” the woman snapped, and Hew imagined her pushing Sabrina in front of her as she made her way toward the door. “Something tells me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her six feet above ground. And that means the two of us are walking out of here together.”
“Target four lined up.” Graham’s voice was as cold and as hard as stone. “Gimme the go-ahead and I’ll take her down.”
“Hold,” Hunter ordered lowly. Louder, he said, “Ma’am, take a peek over your left shoulder, if you would.”
Hew didn’t need eyes on the ground to know what was playing out far below.
Sabrina’s captor was turning. He saw in his mind’s eye the moment the woman noticed the laser dot slicing through the broken window, aimed at her head. He imagined the look on her face when she realized she was seconds away from having her gray matter atomized by a lead round traveling three thousand feet per second.
Graham had taken over the sniper’s perch. And he was one hell of a marksman.
One and a half pounds of trigger pressure was all it would take for it to be game over for the last remaining hostile.
A pause stretched and stretched and stretched until it felt like Hew’s last nerve might fray and break. Then…
“Moving to secure the final unfriendly.” Sam’s words were like a benediction. “Hunter, you and Britt help Sabrina.”
Hew sat up straighter in the dimly lit cockpit, his eyes on the black hole below as if he could see her if he squinted hard enough.
“Help Sabrina?” he barked. “Why does she need help? Is she hurt?”
No answer except for the whomp, whomp, whomp of the rotor blades cutting through the air.
“Check in!” he roared, not caring about anyone’s eardrums. “Is she okay?”
Hunter’s voice was grim. “She’s been better. But she’s alive and kicking. Headed to the exfil location now.”
“Roger that.” Hew shoved the collective forward. “Comin’ down hot.”
He dropped the chopper like a goddamn rock, nose tipping at a precarious angle as he headed for the pre-arranged spot in the crumbling parking lot outside the bottling plant, welcoming the G-forces that pushed him back into the seat.
Within minutes, his skids kissed the busted concrete, and he immediately turned his attention to the hole his teammates had cut through the high, chain-link fence.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
Come on. Come on.
And then…shadows.
At first, only dark blobs of undulating black inside the stygian darkness. Then, the amorphous shapes became familiar figures.
He was used to seeing his teammates clad in all black, balaclavas covering their faces. What he wasn’t used to was seeing Sabrina stumbling between two of them.
The moonless night didn’t reveal much. But it was enough.
He could see that she hung between Britt and Hunter like her legs barely worked. Her head bobbed loose on the stem of her neck. And was that…
Blood on her face?
Red-hot fury replaced his momentary relief at finding her in one piece. He knew exactly where to aim it.
Her.
Sam and Fisher frog-marched a woman between them. Despite her perilous position, her eyes were flinty, her expression was remorseless, and her chin was up at an arrogant angle.
